


Searching for Shadows

by Soann



Series: And so Does the World Sing [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: But Not The Other Way Around, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route Spoilers, GX characters were Nabateans, Gen, I hope my English is okay, It's not my first language, do not copy to another site, no beta we die like Glenn, there are a lot of characters in this story so I'll only tag the ones who get pov chapters, this is very much a FE fic that you can read without knowing anything about GX
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 236,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soann/pseuds/Soann
Summary: One cold day, as war rages on, a wandering Dimitri accidentally wakes up some kind of old God...A Fire Emblem Three Houses fanfiction with Yu-gi-oh! GX elements, can absolutely be read without knowing anything about GX or YGO in general! However, Judaiwillhave one of the main roles in it.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary/Ingrid Brandl Galatea, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Claude von Riegan, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Yubel/Yuuki Juudai | Jaden Yuki, Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/Glenn Fraldarius
Series: And so Does the World Sing [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045512
Comments: 126
Kudos: 78





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Oh damn this is sooo self indulgent you have no idea. As I mentioned in the tags, this is very much a Fire Emblem 3H fic that can be read without knowing anything about GX, but not the other way around. Basically, this was the result of my overactive brain having Judai and Dimitri have some interesting/depressing conversations about fun things like being a monster, and also trying to put GX characters in FE in different ways until basically it went "WHAT IF THEY WERE NABATEANS??"  
> So this monster was born. If you finished VW (which I hope because this fic is gonna spoil the hell out of that route) then you know that it means that... well you're not going to see many GX characters except for Judai and Yubel, yikes... This is gonna be fun!  
> I will explain quickly the GX stuff I've used for this version of the characters at the beginning of next chapter, for those who don't know the show. Anyway, I hope some of you will enjoy it!

__“I knock the ice from my bones_ _

__Try not to feel the cold._ _

__Caught in the thought of that time._ _

__When everything was fine._ _

__Everything was mine.__ ”

***

**20th Day of the Ethereal Moon, Imperial Year 1185**

**???**

Everything was cold.

As the wanderer walked, purposeful, resolved through freezing snow and winds, there was still resignation in his step. A small voice in his head, maybe the last threads of his sanity screamed at him to take shelter. A harsher voice, maybe the first proof of his madness, snarled at him that he was of no use dead. And so the wandering creature was searching. Searching for shelter. There were caves around here, he remembered vaguely, they would have to be enough.

He entered the first one he found, lance at the ready in case some deadly creature, enemies, or other dangers lied in wait, ready to jump at him. He walked inside, searching for a place where he'd be protected from the wind and from view, but where he would see if anything tried to enter.

His lance accidentally hit the stones. And that was the beginning of everything.

The whole cave lit up.

Growling, the vagabond raised his weapon, searching for the enemy that would come to him, surely, without a doubt, to take his head, his life, the hopes of the dead. Silvery glyphs were burnt into the stone walls. With a deafening noise, they moved, revealing not enemies, but a small path, a path going underground.

Underground might still hide enemies, ready to take him unaware.

The barely alive man squinted his one and only eye, trying to get used to the darkness. Then only, he walked the path.

The darkness didn't last. Whatever that place underground was, it looked like a long room, illuminated by some kind of magical, unfathomable pale light. He looked around, searching for the mage responsible. There were pillars, behind which one could hide. But no one was there. The only presence was on the other side of the room, where a gigantic throne, carved in black stone, was projecting its large and imposing shadow.

Sitting on it, there was a boy. A teenager. Maybe a juvenile looking young adult. His eyes were closed and his shoulders slumped, as if he was in deep sleep.

The almost dead man didn't trust it for one second.

Silent, or as silent as he could be, he walked to him. The boy didn't stir. He looked peaceful, brown hair flopping over his forehead, red and black fabric hugging his lithe form. Red and black, red and black, the colours of the witch, the colours of enemies. The walking corpse gasped, staying his hand. Yes, red and black, but not the same red and black. There was no way to be sure that this really was an enemy. And no way to know that this wasn’t.

Attack, kill before being killed, how do you know he won't fight, how do you know he's not working for her, how do you know...

How do you know he's not just sleeping?

Who would sleep in a place like this.

His resolve found, the wanderer raised his weapon, ready to draw first blood, to scare or at least reveal the true face of the one facing him. He hit without hesitation.

Just a light hit, the blade of the lance grazed the sleeper's cheek.

It lasted less than a second before the wanderer felt a sudden burn on his cheek. Nothing much, he had had much worse. But when he reached for his face, there was blood on his fingers. On the armored gloves he was wearing.

As he turned back to the sleeping boy, rage in his chest, the small wound he had just made disappeared without a sound.

A stir. A weak moan.

And then, slowly, a blink, revealing dark, tired eyes.

The boy was awake.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judai is cold and miserable. Dimitri isn't much better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy here we go. So, things about GX that I'm going to use (they'll be explicited later if I keep going as planned, but still, I'd rather establish the basics here):  
> \- The Light is 'The Light of Ruin/Destruction' and like its name indicates, it's not really a nice force of nature. It enjoys taking possession of people who are unbalanced or lost and pushing them to destroy. As the embodiment of 'Gentle Darkness', Judai's role in life is basically to fight it.  
> \- Judai sees spirits and can talk to them, it also translates into seeing ghosts. At the top of his strength, he can make them real, and by that I mean 'everyone can see them and touch them'.  
> \- Yubel is Judai's lover, their souls are fused, spirit laws apply, so he's the only one who can hear and see them and also they have a deep empathic bond.  
> I think that's all that needs to be known for quite a while so I'm gonna stop at that. In any case, I hope you enjoy the first real chapter of that super-indulgent project.

_I'm the devil on your shoulder_

_I'm only cold till you come closer_

_When you strain your eyes to find the light_

_I won't be far behind_

_Cause it's better in the dark_

_When you are a friend of mine_

****23rd Day of the Ethereal Moon, Imperial Year 1185** **

**Judai**

Judai's whole body hurt like a gigantic bruise. The cold really didn't help. He swore softly as more snow entered his shoes. Of course it had to happen.

Figured he'd wake up during winter, in the lands probably up north, and that the ritual clothes he'd been buried in were light and definitely NOT meant with this kind of weather in mind. Good thing he couldn’t fall sick and die of hypothermia. The fact that it didn’t mean he was cold-proof was just bad luck he guessed.

He considered asking his unfortunate guide if there was anywhere he could buy clothes, but their last three interactions said no without him having to ask any question.

The few answers he had gotten from the angry and tired man had raised more questions than anything else in truth. He had wanted to know where and when he was, of course. Mostly, what was going on right now.

‘There's a war.’ he had learnt, and also that they were right in the middle of the battlefield, near the border that delimited the Kingdom and the Empire.

Right, great, thanks mister guide, but what Empire and what Kingdom? Neither were here the last time he'd walked around. But the war was his biggest new question, really. Because the last thing he could remember was Sothis. Sothis promising she'd heal the land he had almost died to save. Promising he'd wake up to a world brimming with life. And her children had promised with her to protect this life, to honour his sacrifice.

And yet, in the three days they'd been walking around, he had yet to see one scaly wing in the sky. So he had asked.

" _What are the Nabateans doing, if there's a war?_ "

And his guide, whose only introduction had been ’ _I am but a corpse animated by the wish of revenge for the dead_ ’ (Judai was pretty sure that even at his worst, he had never been that dramatic) had only answered: " _What are Nabateans?_ "

Judai didn't want the words to burn as cold as they did when he heard them. He tried to find reasons as to why they wouldn't be known. Mostly, he looked at the man, mumbling to himself and to ghosts only he could see (which wasn't a good sign, as Judai was usually the one who saw ghosts, so either he had lost far more power than he thought, or Mr. Corpse was... well... not all there). He figured that maybe, just maybe, the man just wasn't attuned to whatever was happening in the world. A hermit, maybe, who always strayed far from humanity and its protectors.

That hope was fraying, more and more, everytime he looked at the glowing, bony lance the man was holding. It looked like it was pumping blood. And the magic coming from it, so full of pain and hate, all of it strangely familiar...

He shivered.

Bad memories rolled around in good ones. The good ones were somehow worse, in the present situation.

Yubel hummed into his soul, a warm comfort blanket in such a desolate, cold landscape. Yubel's love was what held him upright. Yubel's strength was the reason he'd held on despite the absolutely hellish rhythm Mr. Corpse seemed resolved to hold, looking desperately for who knew what. Yubel's hard scales were keeping him safe, protected against any attack, and it was them being used in alarm that had woken him up.

And he had woken up too early.

He could feel it. His bones were aching. His body tried to reach the shadows, but he could barely pull them to him before every single one of his organs screamed in pain. He could barely hear the shadows every time he passed by them. They sang mournfully. Sometimes, their lament was joined by the spirits who kept him company.

They waited for him, he knew. And it hurt in a way. How long did they have to wait? How much longer would they have waited if a spear-happy one-eyed man hadn't happened to find his tomb and chosen to attack a sleeping man, triggering Yubel's defence mechanism?

In three days, they'd passed many corpses. Actual ones. Not walking ones like the blonde man he kept following. Because what else could he do, really? He didn't know anything about this world he'd woken in, except for facts so long past they apparently sounded like fiction. And the only other proof of life he had seen had been those corpses. Death as the proof of life. If he didn’t know better he would have thought he was in some kind of hell.

He shivered once again and glared at the fur coat the man was wearing.

"Hey, Mr. Corpse," he tried, "you have just a bit of space under that coat?"

The man didn't seem to hear him. Judai grumbled and walked faster.

" _You'd be cozy underneath,_ " Yubel snarked, " _stuck between a smelly fur coat and some rock hard cold armor._ "

" _It'd be much better than where I am right now, at least._ "

The man was mumbling again. Judai wanted to snap his fingers in front of his face, forcing his attention on him, his one living companion, currently freezing to, well, not death but deep discomfort.

"Mr. Corpse!" he tried again, louder. "I could really need something warm if possible. Anything."

The man turned towards him. His eye was empty, but the way it drooped showed, more than anything, that he needed sleep. Judai cringed inwardly. Neither of them slept enough, but the man in front of him really seemed like he should have taken a few years up Judai's sleep throne (Really, whose idea was it to set him this way instead of a bed or something laying down? He'd bet on Seiros, she had always been a dramatic one, that kid).

But one thing was for certain: the man didn't like his presence at all. He had tolerated it the last few days, but clearly hated the fact that he was here. Only Judai's complete lack of world knowledge (or, most likely, the little scarring graze on his guide's face) had stopped him from getting run through. In three days he had established a handy-dandy list of traits he could write down about the man who had been his literal wake-up call:

\- He was stubborn

\- He was paranoid

\- He was grumpy

\- He spoke to ghosts that probably weren't here

\- He had nightmares and kept asking, begging for forgiveness and for more time, just a bit more time

Judai ended up never asking for directions towards a town or anything. This guy had problems and Judai was pretty scared of what he would do to himself if left to his own devices.

" _Barely woken up in an unknown world_ ," Yubel hummed with fond laughter, _"and you're already ready to protect someone who's been nothing but rude to you_."

" _Listen, soul of mine. I'm a disaster. I can notice when someone is a fellow disaster. And disasters help each other._ "

" _He doesn't seem to want your help._ "

" _How many of my disaster friends wanted my help before I forcefully befriended them?_ "

How many were still alive.

The thought reverberated in his head as he reached his guide, still shivering. The man looked at him with a glare that hid a bit of wary wonder. Yeah, he was some kind of miracle, he got it thanks. But how did one explain what you were to people who didn't even know the closest equivalent supposed to walk this land?

"I only have one coat." the man mumbled.

"Great. Then we share before I freeze."

The man didn't fight back as he burrowed inside the coat, savouring sweet heat, at last, enough to forget about how ill at ease he felt, almost sick, for no reason... Well, there was nothing he could do for his snow covered feet, though. An eye looked at him suspiciously.

"You won't find a place to plant a dagger inside." he growled.

"For the love of... You've already made sure I had no weapons on me! Also I know absolutely nothing and you refuse to tell me anything that could help, so what exactly would I gain by killing you except, you know, ending up on my own in an unknown land?"

"Empire spies can be shrewd."

"I don't even freaking know what that damn Empire is or where it is," Judai grumbled while adjusting himself inside the coat, "now where do you intend to stop for tonight and how long will it take for us to make a fire?"

"We can't make a fire. We'll be caught."

"I thought you said we were walking further inside the Kingdom's lands. Getting caught should not be an issue, here, if they're your allies."

Not a word. Judai furrowed his eyebrows. The man clearly didn't like the Empire so he had assumed he was part of the Kingdom, but...

"They ARE your allies, right?"

Noises.

Judai stopped immediately and looked at his guide. The man was tense, looking in the direction of the noises they heard. Voices, mostly. Judai looked quickly at a small winged spirit at his side, silently asking it to go look. Meanwhile, Mr. Corpse was looking around, like a wild beast, for a place to hide. With the way his hand was hanging onto the creepy lance, Judai realized with a bit of warmth in his chest that it wasn't a place to hide himself he was looking for. It was a place to hide _him_.

Kind. Unnecessary, but kind.

His spirit came back quickly, chirping away. Not enemies, he was saying. Safe. Two soldiers, looking for water. The camp was further. Small. A task force mostly composed of scouts.

Judai wasn't sure exactly how it was safe, but a thing that definitely could be said about him, was that he trusted his spirits without question.

"Not enemies," he said, "we're good."

The man looked at him with an eye almost drowned in madness. Judai snapped his fingers, bringing him back to his senses, or near enough that he could listen and not just hear him.

"Calm down, man. I said they're not enemies."

"And how would you know?" the other snarled.

Judai hesitated barely one second before rolling his eyes and answering. Loudly.

"Because my ghosts told me!"

And there it was. The eye, widening in shock. Meanwhile, the voices were suddenly silent. Interrupted. They heard. Perfect. Judai hoped they lacked common sense as much as he did and came to check on them.

"Ghosts," the man mumbled, "you have ghosts."

He didn't know half of it. And contrary to that poor guy, Judai could confirm that his were the real deal. Judai bit his lip.

"I have ghosts," he confirmed, "I have more than you could ever have. And while I don't know what yours tell you, I trust mine."

"Ghosts have no reasons to lie."

Judai let a cold laugh escape his lips.

"At least we agree on something."

The man stayed put long enough, hand still clutched around his scary deadly lance, for the soldiers to join them. Judai was so happy that some people, at least, were still too curious for their own good. He supposed the war was another reason to make sure nothing passed by them.

"Who are you?" said the first one, hand going towards his own weapon.

The second one gasped immediately and stopped him.

They were young, both of them. But where the first was wary, eyes squinted in suspicion, body ready to fight, the other had left any caution to the wind, body lax, mouth open in bewilderment as his eyes were fixated on one thing and one thing only.

The horrid lance Judai's guide was currently holding.

"What are you doing?" seethed the first soldier. "They're armed!"

"Go back to camp. Bring our young lord with you here."

"What?"

The soldier raised his shaky hand, pointing to the lance.

"That's Areadbhar." was all he said.

The first soldier looked at the lance. Blanched. Then, after a few seconds of stunned silence, he gasped loudly and excused himself with fumbling apologies. The other soldier looked at them, eyes wide. He seemed torn between throwing himself on the ground to beg for mercy and overjoyed and really, that was, honestly, pretty weird to act that way just because of a weapon.

Or maybe... Maybe it wasn't the weapon, but the one wielding it? Was there some kind of prophecy about how whoever had that lance would deliver the land or something like that? If so that probably was bullshit, and definitely could be why Judai's guide didn't want to be found.

But despite how tense he was, the one-eyed man didn't move. He looked through the soldier as if he wasn't here and mumbled words that Judai couldn't hear. He could guess them though. Apologies. Promises that soon, soon, he'd bring his ghosts ‘ _her_ ’ head. Somehow, the situation was distressing enough to throw him back into their invisible grasp.

Judai wanted to snap his fingers again. But he felt like any sharp sound would make their fragile equilibrium collapse. So he waited, hoping it really wasn’t as bad as his companion seemed to think.

When the soldier came back, it was with their ‘young lord’.

The first thing Judai had the time to think was that the man was beautiful. He didn't even get to go further before Yubel burst out laughing in his head, because apparently that was very predictable of him.

" _You and blue hair_ ," they giggled in his mind as he was trying very hard not to pout physically, " _you really have a thing._ "

" _I have a type. Sue me. Now let me focus, I'm not sure Mr. Corpse is going to be mentally present enough to get us through this._ "

" _Oh no, you have to do diplomacy. We're doomed._ "

There were things that shouldn't be said, he thought. They were right, of course, but still, it shouldn't be said.

It was then that the man who had guided him until then chose to brutally inhale and move, forcing Judai along with him. Judai squeaked inelegantly, stumbled, and only didn't fall on his face due to pure luck. The man didn't seem to even notice, moving like he was hypnotized.

Come on, Judai thought desperately, he is good-looking, but that's not reason enough to rush like that.

When he raised his eyes towards the pretty young man, though, any apology or salutation disappeared from his tongue.

The young lord's eyes were open in shock. He was frozen in place, looking not at the weapon, but at the one-eyed man who was slowly making his way towards him, dragging an unfortunate Judai with him. It wasn't some simple shock on his face, though.

It was recognition.

Shock at recognition, even?

Judai swallowed his saliva.

Why did this feel like the beginning of a disaster?

The lord turned one second to one of the soldiers and said something Judai couldn't hear. The soldiers saluted and left in a hurry. Judai didn't like that. What was happening? What were they...

"Glenn!"

Judai stumbled again, surprised at the outburst from his guide. In front of them, the young lord

flinched.

The full body flinch of someone who didn't even remember they could hurt that much.

And then Judai's guide grabbed the man’s shoulder and Judai prepared himself to stop what would probably be a blow. And get hit. This would hurt. But the lord only made a preemptive move towards his sword by reflex, stopping himself before reaching it, just looking at the one-eyed man with so many warring emotions he didn't seem able to stop at just one.

"Glenn", his guide urged, "I'm so sorry. But I promise. Soon. Soon you'll be able to rest. I promise!"

The pretty man (Glenn?) looked at the other one with such sick horror that Judai wondered if he was going to puke. One second. And then a snarl of anger replaced everything, like a nice, comfortable mask that kept the harshness of the world away.

"Look at you. What have you become, you beast."

The disgust, at least, wasn't a feint. The young lord took the one eyed man's wrist, forcing him to walk.

"You're coming with me," he seethed, "and you better not run away. Not when you have so much to answer for."

Answer for? Not good, definitely. But not bad either, somehow. Judai couldn't say why exactly he was so sure that it was not that bad. Maybe because the man seemed so much more hurt than angry despite his tone. Maybe because he hadn't even tried to take the weapon away from the other man's hand. Maybe because he hadn't even looked at Judai once.

So Judai coughed.

And the lord turned towards him, barely hiding the torrent of emotions in his gaze behind a pale imitation of indifference. Judai smiled, hoping his expression was a bit charming, or at least inoffensive.

"Hi. Huh, does anyone here have a spare coat I could borrow?"

Judai wasn't sure how, exactly, he ended up in a tent, being looked over by a motherly healer who wanted to check if he had wounds. He didn't. Probably wouldn't have any ever again in his life. But how did one explain that, huh? She smiled when giving him warmer clothes, saying how happy she was that he was unhurt. And it was nice, sure, but this kind of sentiment really felt wasted on him. He tried to remember how he had gotten here...

When Judai first stepped into the tent, everything had been happening too fast for him, but he remembered the young lord telling him to fetch ‘Sylvain’. Sylvain had turned up to be a handsome red head who was getting treated for a bad shoulder wound. He had said that a blue-haired someone had asked for him and the man had laughed before leaving. Somehow, five seconds later, Judai was the healer's new victim. That sounded right...

The healer smiled again once he was properly clothed. Sweet, sweet warmth. Judai felt like he could breathe again. He smiled back.

"Soooo..." he started. "I'll admit that I'm a bit new here. Where are we? And who are you people?"

The healer laughed nicely, like he was making a joke, but when he tilted his head, clearly indicating his ignorance, she slapped a confused hand on her lips.

"Oh, my. Well, we're a scouting party for the Faerghus Resistance. We were on the way back to Fraldarius territory, where most of the resistance is organized."

Faerghus, right. According to his guide, that was the name of the Kingdom. Fraldarius, another to add to his widening list of names he had nothing to associate to.

"What about you," the healer smiled again, "who are you? I know everyone in this group and you're not part of it, so where did Felix find you?"

Really, for now, of every single name he'd heard, the only one whose owner he was sure he had identified was ‘Sylvain’, so that really did not help.

"Huh. Who is Felix?"

Luckily or not, Sylvain chose that moment to come back inside the tent. His laughing face had disappeared behind a slight frown and shaky hands. It came back in a second as he smiled at the healer, hiding his hands behind his back. And hiding how shaken he was expertly. Great, Judai thought, he was like him. Their discussions would probably be amazingly fake.

"Ah, Mercedes, could you be a dear? There's someone you should see to. He's in the clearing, with Felix. Please? I need to ask our guest a few things."

The healer - Mercedes, noted - nodded with her permanently soft and smiling face, and then left. Sylvain sat in her place, looking at Judai with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. It was almost predatory. Judai decided not to leave him any time to ask his questions.

"She didn't have time to answer me," he said immediately, "who is Felix?"

If Sylvain was surprised by his question, he didn't show it.

"The one who asked for me. Blue hair, sour face, you see him?"

The young lord.

"So, his name isn't Glenn, then?"

The effect was instantaneous. Sylvain lost his smile and furrowed his brows. While his tone was still gentle, it was also incredibly fake, even faker than his smile. There was no mistaking that despite their casual positions, this was an interrogation.

"Where did you hear that name?"

"That's what Mr. Corpse called him."

This, however, seemed to take him by surprise.

"Mr. Corpse?"

"Yeah. Tall, blonde, one eye, muscles even you could be jealous of, introduced himself to me as 'but a walking corpse serving the dead' or something like that. You see the guy?"

Sylvain stared at him with wide eyes, torn between some kind of nervous hilarity and incredulity.

"Yes," he said slowly, "I see the guy. You're talking about Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. Childhood friend of mine and incidentally crown prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus."

Oh.

Well.

How the hell did one react to that, exactly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. It is starting.  
> Starting next chapter you guys are going to understand why I put dates at the beginning of the chapter. This should only be important for the first half of the fic, but still.  
> I hope some people enjoy it <3


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain really doesn't want to think about Miklan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. Flashbacks. There's gonna be a bunch of them, you can actually expect them every other chapter for a while. Truth being said, months ago, when I was still playing around the ideas for that fic, I had thought of starting it much earlier because I wanted Academy scenes. But none of these scenes included Judai and I couldn't explain the time skip with him here, so anyway, I compromised with a lot of flashbacks x) They're not going to be into chronological order too, which is why I'm putting the date at the beginning of every chapter. I can also try to tell you when they happen in game events terms if it's easier for you! (also let's have notes serve something else than my rambling x)) In fact, this one appears during the Miklan chapter, as will become obvious soon enough!  
> Anyway, have fun with Sadvain angst, if you enjoy pain like I apparently do!

**Chapter 2**

_I say I wanna be happy, but I quickly forget_

_Will I sabotage all the good I've got left?_

_Depression's like a big fur coat_

_It's made of dead things but it keeps me warm_

**30th Day of the Verdant Rain Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

**Sylvain**

Sylvain didn't know how to feel or what to think. It wasn't that unusual for him, but his usual method for it - let it slide off your back like water off a duck's feathers - didn't seem to work that time. He crossed his arms behind his head, the sun warming his back in a way that could have been comforting, and started looking around, searching for girls. Because girls were a nice distraction, always perfect to keep out any evil swarming thoughts. These needed to be pushed aside.

Miklan had stolen the Lance of Ruin.

Yeah, that was one of the thoughts that needed to go.

The Kingdom had asked help from the Church because of the delicate situation.

Nope, nope, nopity nope, he wasn't thinking about that.

The Church had sent the Golden Deer house to intervene instead of the Blue Lions.

He just wanted a woman, the first one he would see, hell, he'd even go after a good-looking guy if that was what it took...

Miklan and his troop of bandits were going to be apprehended, probably (definitely, very definitely) executed.

"Dorothea!"

His exclamation might have been just a bit too desperate. He tamed his expression back into an easy-going smile, posture relaxed, and went towards the hat-wearing beauty he had just called. Usually, she would not have been his first choice. She liked turning him down too quickly, was harsh as all hell, and none of that mattered half as much as the fact that he had seen her kiss Petra, two days ago, the young princess blushing and stuttering in her broken Fodlanese. It had been a cute picture and usually, Sylvain felt too soft thinking about it to try to ruin it.

Today, though, he wanted it destroyed. The ugly, bitter part of him wanted to rip the girls from one another, to steal one for himself, not even to keep, but just to know he had managed to take from someone else. That wasn't a part of him he liked indulging in, but there was no time feeling ashamed when his mind liked reminding him of what was going to happen to his brother soon and he wouldn't even get to be involved and...

And Dorothea was particularly beautiful today, he forced himself to think.

"The loveliest of all flowers," he crooned as soon as he had caught up to her, "gracing me with her presence! Oh, but what an honour!"

Dorothea laughed, her eyelashes fluttering as if trying to seduce him (and really she didn't need to, she was smart and charming and probably the most beautiful person in the Academy, everyone was under her thrall with just one glance). Her tone of voice was gentle when she answered.

"Save it Gautier. I'll sicc my darling Ingrid on you, we don't want that do we?"

If there was one sentence made to destroy his fun, that was it. Not even Dimitri's disapproving glances or Felix's murderous glares could stop him when he was in the mood, but Ingrid's anger?

"Oh, flower among flowers, why must you hurt me this way?"

The fact that she hadn't slapped him yet or told him off must have counted as a win, right?

No.

Not when she was looking at him with such pity in her eyes.

"Hey, you know what?" she said far too softly. "I heard the blacksmith has a new apprentice and that she's cute as buttons. Why don't you go see if she has time for you?"

She moved away with a small wave and a worried glance. She had been... gentle. Nice? Did she try to set him up with another girl? That didn't sound like her. Sylvain stayed frozen in place, replaying the pity in her eyes and feeling his chest tighten, the armor against his heart hardening.

She knew.

He didn't know how she knew about Miklan, but she did.

That alone was enough to convince him that he did not want to go to the blacksmith's apprentice. So instead, he turned around and went the perfect opposite way.

The library wasn't exactly the last place Sylvain ever wanted to be in, but it definitely only was his favourite place when he was studying Sreng. Everything back at Gautier that talked about their sworn enemies had to be thoroughly curated. Nothing could be allowed to make them seem human, everything was a weakness or a strength of theirs, no traditions that couldn't be used in a way or another to hurt them ever appeared anywhere. In comparison, everything in Garreg Mach was much more neutral sounding, as if studying perfect strangers that no one wanted to see up close. Still much better than the dehumanizing stuff he could find in his own territories.

He kind of wished he was here to study more, instead of sulking away to forget about Dorothea's pity. But he dragged his feet inside, throwing a lazy smile at a woman who was reading. She sneered at him and went back to her book.

He almost went to her, desperate for a distraction. Tomas's usual slow chuckles stopped him from adding another bad decision to his already dazzlingly long list.

"Oh, young master Gautier," the librarian said affably, so hunched over Sylvain kind of wanted to tell him to sit down, "I think one of your classmates fell asleep back there, would you mind waking him up? From what I've seen, he could stay there for a while if we don't."

"Sure thing, Tomas!" Sylvain answered with a wink. "It's done. I'm great at waking people up."

He sauntered with his usual energy, hands behind his head, wondering if he'd find an exhausted Ashe there, maybe Linhardt?

Instead, he found Claude von Riegan.

There was a Faerghus History book on his legs as he slept, hunched over in a way not that dissimilar to Tomas. This couldn't be a comfortable position. Sylvain felt his good mood dissipate. Claude von Riegan. The Golden Deer's house representative, the house that was going to deal with Miklan. Sylvain didn't know if he wanted to join them or to scream at them.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" He exclaimed instead without any niceties, punctuating it with a happy laugh.

Claude groaned heavily and put a hand on his eyes.

"I was awake," he grumbled, "just resting my eyes and enjoying the silence."

"Sure you were," Sylvain laughed, crouching near his slumped form, "did you have a wild night, to sleep in a place like that?"

"Probably not as wild as yours," Claude smiled, opening his eyes and winking at him, "I could hear you down in my room, I have no idea how his princeliness or my prickly neighbour slept."

Sylvain laughed happily, not even pretending embarrassment. He might have been a bit wild the previous night, wishing with all his heart to forget about the news he had gotten about Miklan. He had been strong at first, for a while, but then Byleth, the weird Golden Deer teacher had come to him and he remembered, well, not breaking down exactly, but the words he had told her at the time had been dripping with unusual vulnerability. "He's still family", he had said about his brother, when had been the last time he had thought of Miklan as family exactly?

It wasn't time to think about that again, though. He had come here to forget about all that, hadn't he? He waved at the book Claude was reading.

"Boring read, I guess?"

The leader's eyes shone immediately, any trace of fatigue forgotten as he stood up with all the spare energy of youth.

"Oh, far from it! I'm reading about old religious traditions. Did you know that according to this, there used to be a celebration during the Harpstring Moon? It was supposedly about how the Goddess stopped some kind of Evil Force from destroying the world, but at a great cost. Great cost meant that the celebrations were somber in tone, which means they weren't popular."

"And that's why we don't celebrate it anymore?" Sylvain shrugged. "I'm not surprised. Things change with time."

"It's actually a good thing," Claude said, closing the book and putting it back on the shelf, "any tradition that doesn't suit the people has to change."

"Oh, I definitely agree on that." It was hard to hide the bitterness in his voice. Crests were a good example after all. If only his father thought the same way he did about crests, then Miklan...

He shook his head. Bad thoughts. Bad thoughts. Luckily, Claude hadn't noticed, still replacing books before turning to him.

"Not much of a believer, are you?" The Golden Deer's class representative asked him with that knowing smile of his. "Not all of them, of course, but a good portion of the Faerghus devout I speak to seem to think that traditions have always been that way and should never change."

"They're not devout, then, they're fools," Sylvain answered, still smiling, "but while my family is big on traditions, I honestly think it's more a matter of showing off their status than showing devotion to the Goddess."

"Ah," Claude snorted, "nobles."

The laugh that tore through Sylvain's throat was strangely sincere.

"Nobles," he confirmed with a wink.

"What about sacred ceremonies?" Claude enquired, starting to leave the library and obviously expecting Sylvain to follow (which he was going to do, indeed, but only because he had nothing better to do). "I heard there were a bunch in the Kingdom. Do they happen often?"

"That's a bit vague. Some villages have their own traditions, you know? So it's hard to know if the sacred ceremonies practiced in Gautier are the same that are practiced in Rowe."

"It does make sense," Claude mumbled thoughtfully, "maybe Tomas could tell me more about that."

"You really want to know?"

"I'm pretty invested in Faith's contradictions," Claude smiled, "I think they're fascinating, don't you?"

Not really, no, but once again, Sylvain had never had much interest in Faith. He didn’t dislike it either but he didn’t care for it. He guessed being raised near the Sreng border, among dead bodies and violence didn't help you believe in a Benevolent Goddess, even as he grew in what was called a Holy Kingdom.

"I guess Dimitri would know more about it," he ended up mumbling, "he's more invested than I am, that's for sure. Maybe Felix too, he doesn't like History all that much but he has a good memory for it."

There was a glint in Claude's eyes at these words. Sylvain didn't like it. He couldn't have said why, but there was a hunger there and he wasn't sure it was all innocent curiosity. Despite the unease, he figured simple questions couldn't be that bad, right? There was no way whatever the young man was scheming could have terrible repercussions if he was just wondering about traditions, celebrations... No, if it was a matter of celebrations, Sylvain was ready to bet Claude just wanted more occasions to throw feasts and banquets, which everyone would look at with fond annoyance or deep hunger.

"Don't hound them too much," he laughed anyway, "you know they don't have the patience for your antics."

"You mean, like they don't have patience for yours?" Claude answered with his nice and cute smile and ouch did these words hurt more than they should have.

"Haha, touché!"

Claude winked at him, either not noticing just how 'touché' it was or not caring.

"Don't worry, it's for international relationships after all. I doubt they'd murder me in cold blood over simple curiosity."

Dimitri probably wouldn't mind Claude's questions, in truth. He might even be elated to hear him ask away with such enthusiasm. Felix, however, definitely wouldn't care for it.

Felix.

Sylvain barely heard Claude muttering about it being time for class, waving back at him with an empty smile. Felix had always been good at helping him get rid of what was on his mind. Even if it was with restless sparring, it was better than the thoughts creeping around his lonely mind. Sylvain could lose himself in the funny little way his ears flushed when he was getting annoyed, the angry glint of his eyes, or even into trying to finally, finally figure out what type of girls he liked (he had been trying to set him up for years, like a good friend, but it seemed like everything until then had been a bust).

Desperately seeking the angry company of his sword-wielding friend, Sylvain's feet led him to the training grounds were he mentally prepared to be called lazy and weak, comments that usually would make him laugh. He wasn't sure why he thought that today, they might make him feel worse.

Unfortunately for him, but fortunately for his self-esteem, Felix wasn't on the training grounds when he entered. Instead, he was greeted by Dimitri's long legs, which, in hindsight, might have explained Felix's absence. The prince was twirling a lance around with an intensely focused face. His lips were moving as if he was muttering words, like a mantra or a rhythm for his movements to follow. It was strange, more manic than musical, and was probably another proof that his friend tried to have far too much control over himself. Sylvain was doing him a favour by interrupting him, really.

"Well if it isn’t Your Highness," he drawled with a lazy walk, "you should be careful, these eyebrows of yours could stay stuck like that if you keep frowning."

Dimitri jumped and blinked, lance almost immediately pointing in Sylvain's direction. As focused as he was, Sylvain realized with amusement, he hadn't even heard him come in.

"Sylvain," he smiled immediately and it did seem a little forced, but nothing like the ‘princely mask’ Felix liked to describe, no, he was just a little on edge after being surprised, nothing weird there, "to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence here? The training grounds have not seen much of you since the beginning of the year if I'm not mistaken."

He was not mistaken, but Sylvain's smile refused to strain.

"Well, I was looking for you!"

Dimitri's face immediately went somber and Sylvain wondered, for a second, why him looking for Dimitri seemed like such a terrible concept, before the kind, far too kind prince opened his mouth again.

"Sylvain, my dear friend. I apologize deeply. I do not know how to comfort you in the current situation. But while I don't know if I have the power to do anything, I can bring your pleas to the Archbishop, you should have a say into what becomes of your family..."

Sylvain froze. He knew the smile on his face had dropped for one second.

And then it came back again, stronger and wider than before and he laughed, loudly, too loudly.

"Oh, no! Your Highness, that's not what I meant at all! I was looking for you because I heard Claude wanted to talk to you."

"Claude?" Dimitri's face looked confused for a second, but then there was an almost shy expression on his regal features before he stood straight, looking up at Sylvain in a way that could have been more imposing if Sylvain didn't remember him as a snot-nosed long-haired frail maiden-looking kid. "Really, Sylvain, if you need my help for anything in these trying times, please do not hesitate."

"Really, your highness," Sylvain smiled, "my brother is scum. He won't be missed. I don't need anything."

"Very well," Dimitri conceded, though he didn't seem convinced, "so what did Claude want to talk about?"

"Not sure," Sylvain lied, "he said something about it being for international relationship purposes? You know him, probably another scheme. I suspect he wants more feasts."

Dimitri's look was unbearably fond. Claude and him weren't close, not from what Sylvain could see, but they had developed some kind of friendly rivalry during the previous months. It worried Sylvain more than he'd admit. Dimitri wasn't stupid per say, but he was honest, maybe even naive in some aspects and Claude was, well...

The Schemer, the manipulator, the man with a plan who never did anything for no reason. Sylvain dearly hoped Claude didn't intend to ever do something that could hurt Dimitri, or he might have to cause a diplomatic incident. Dimitri was his prince and his friend, a kind person with a heavy mind and wounded heart who needed steady, honest friends at his side.

 _And then there’s me_ , Sylvain couldn't help but think, _whose job is to worry about people who could take advantage of him._ He wasn't exactly proud of it, but he didn't dislike it either, if it allowed him to protect what mattered.

So, of course, Sylvain wrinkled his nose.

"With all due respect, Your Highness, you stink! So if you have to go on a date, you should wash up first."

That blush on Dimitri's face was worth the tongue-lashing he'd probably get from Ingrid later. The prince sputtered then shook his head.

"I'll beg you to keep this kind of joke to yourself, Sylvain. There are rumours that could have dire consequences if propagated."

"I know, I know," Sylvain laughed, tucking his hands behind his head, "but seriously, date or no date, you really smell."

"I suppose I do," Dimitri admitted with embarrassment, "and I shall wash up indeed. Unless you need a sparring partner? The Golden Deer have class, right now, so there is no hurry for me to get ready."

"Of course not Your Highness! You know I hate sparring. And you'd destroy me, I would rather have someone I'd actually have a chance against."

Dimitri looked dismayed once again, but he moved to put his training lance away.

"Ah. I fear I still lack control over my own strength. This flaw of mine has made it difficult for me to find willing partners. I understand, obviously. But if you ever change your mind..."

Around four promises to come to Dimitri for anything later, the prince finally left the grounds and Sylvain sighed, relief and satisfaction firmly lodged in his belly before cold gripped his chest once again as his eyes fell on the training lances.

Lances. Like the one the church had been sent to get back from Miklan. The damn Lance of Ruin, weapon of mass destruction, sole reason they were winning the war against the Sreng border according to his father. Yes, retrieving it was important. Yes, Miklan stealing it was one of his worst offenses yet - and it included pushing Sylvain down a well.

No, Sylvain still didn't feel ready to think about it.

It was just his luck that, as he left the training grounds hoping for another distraction, he found Dorothea again.

The beautiful diva wasn't alone, her smiling face was leaning in, softly pecking a charming lady on the lips.

Except the lady wasn't Petra, the beautiful Brigid Princess.

It was Ingrid, Sylvain's good friend and conscience, who was blushing a crimson shade of red under the attention. He didn't hear what Ingrid mumbled in embarrassment as Dorothea laughed sweetly, answering with an ease one could only envy. Ingrid left swiftly, more flustered than he was used to seeing the young knight in training be, but while the kiss had been clearly a bit too public for Ingrid's taste, it hadn't seemed unwanted either.

Sylvain felt his stomach churning and he didn't know if it was incredulity or anger. Was Dorothea playing with Ingrid? He didn't know if his friend actually cared for the Adrestian that way, but he knew Dorothea liked Petra, so what was she...

A voice, sounding suspiciously like Felix's, reminded him harshly that he was one to talk.

Swallowing back the anger he didn't have the right to feel, he came closer. Dorothea beamed at him, her slightly softer smile from before forgotten in her happiness.

"Oh, Sylvain! How have you been since this morning?" she asked with a wink.

"You know me, Dorothea darling," he answered with his own wink, "I'm always great! Now, did I just see you kiss our wonderful Ingrid right now?"

Dorothea's smile didn't leave her face.

"Yes, indeed."

"That's quite a feat. She's not one to fall easily for romance, that one!"

Dorothea chuckled, more amused and innocent than anything.

"You'd be surprised."

"I'm more surprised at you than her, to be honest," he said, knowing his eyes were cold and his smile cutting, "because wasn't it you yesterday, who were kissing Petra in the bushes?"

If possible, Dorothea's smile went wider.

"Yes, indeed."

Disarmed, Sylvain furrowed his brows, uncertain. He didn't know what he had expected but that easy admission wasn't it. As if sensing his uncertainty, Dorothea giggled.

"Ask me if Ingrid and Petra are currently making out in the Blue Lions classroom."

"... is the answer 'yes, indeed'?"

"I sure hope so."

As unexpected as that development was, Sylvain let any anger slide off his back and did, once again, as he always did when he wasn't sure how he felt about something. A wink and a joke.

"Interesting, may I join you?"

"Certainly not, young man! I do not want my darling girlfriends to be frightened by an oaf such as you!"

"Excuse you? I'll have you know most young women are delighted by my company!"

"Well not these ones as they're more delighted by other women's companies."

A fair point. Not that Sylvain actually wanted to join, Ingrid's embarrassment wouldn't be as fun as her anger. Still, he pouted.

"You are no fun."

"Oh no," Dorothea snarked, "everyone knows I'm an awful bore. Now, I just promised Ingrid I’d do something, but I think you're the man for the job, much more than I'd ever be."

"Anything for you, sweetest of them all. And what would that be?"

Her smile looked like victory.

"Apparently, Felix has been hiding in the dorms for a while. She wanted to get him to class, but I think you bothering him will be way better than anything I could try."

Hiding.

Felix, hiding?

In any normal day, Sylvain would have called that horseshit and laughed at the poor soul who had said they had caught Felix Hugo Fraldarius doing the impossible: fleeing. No way, Felix didn't run from anything except heartfelt conversations. His fight or flight instincts were deeply rooted in fight mode. Felix didn't _hide_.

However, today wasn't a normal day. Today marked the second week during which Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius had stayed at the Monastery. He'd stay until the end of, well, the Miklan matter, which could be quite a few days again. And if there was one person Felix would confront as much as run from, it was his own father.

As he went up the stairs to the dormitory, Sylvain couldn't help but try to remember how much he had seen of his friend, recently. Not much, that was for sure. In class, mostly, and then he disappeared, not even going to his usual haunts like the training grounds much, Sylvain wasn't even sure he had seen him eating. The lengths that boy could go to avoid his father were pretty worrying, Sylvain hoped he at least ate correctly.

Felix was indeed in the dorms. Not in his room, though, but closer to the girls' rooms. He was staring at the window, eyes following whatever was going on with the sky patrol. Probably nothing of interest, Felix wasn’t really fond of heights or of flying after all, it was just mindless curiosity. He didn't seem to have heard him, so Sylvain announced his arrival as he knew how to do best.

"And how is the surliest student of the academy doing? You shouldn't frown like that, you're going to scare the ladies away!"

Dorothea had said to bother him, hadn't she? Perfect.

Felix turned for a second to glare at him. He, however, didn't grace him with an answer or an insult before turning back to the window.

That was worrying. But questions like "are you alright?" or "what is going on?" had never been the kind one needed to ask Felix. The first one would at best get a snarled answer, the second maybe something along the lines of "why aren't you asking that to the boar instead?" because processing grief through anger was a messy affair, and Sylvain really didn't want to get into that.

So instead, he leaned against the wall and surveyed his friend's elegant profile. There had always been a delicate beauty to Felix's aristocratic figure, and the tight bun he always put his hair in only accented it, framing his face sweetly. If only he'd lose the scowl, he'd have all the ladies in Garreg Mach at his feet, Sylvain thought with a sigh, what a waste it was that he only ever seemed interested in swords.

"So. What are you thinking so hard about?"

A teasing 'it's not like you' was on the tip of his tongue, but he kept it. Right now, teasing looked like the best way for Felix to withdraw into himself even more. And while his friend leaving in a huff would accomplish Ingrid's objective, make sure he'd go to class, Sylvain kind of wanted that conversation.

"I'm thinking," Felix said with a small hesitation, "about what I should do."

Vague. Sincere, strangely so for Felix, but vague. Sylvain hummed.

"And what is it you should do?"

Felix frowned even more, frustration clear on his face. After a while, he growled a few words.

"Miklan should be a Kingdom Affair."

And Sylvain froze. That wasn't what he expected and he did not, in fact, want that conversation.

But, he thought hysterically, he had spent the whole morning trying to avoid thinking about it. And it kept following him, again and again and maybe it was time to confront it? And Felix, his dear but blunt friend, would be better than anyone showering him with false sympathy, like Dorothea or even Ingrid.

So Sylvain swallowed and answered.

"The Church believed that the Alliance would have a more neutral view on the matter, since it has no history with the Lance of Ruin."

"More like Lady Rhea only trusts their teacher to retrieve it."

A precise hit that made Sylvain wince. While the Church's reasoning made sense in theory, it was indeed marred by how much favouritism Lady Rhea had been showing to their teacher, even if he understood it. After all, Byleth Eisner was a beautiful young lady, as deadly on the battlefield as she was an efficient teacher according to her students. She inspired trust and respect and Sylvain would lie if he said he didn't wonder once or twice if transferring to the Deers wouldn't be worth being part of her class.

Then he had seen all the action the Deers usually had to see because of that trust the Archbishop had in her, and he had figured that he saw enough of that at home and was more than fine sticking to patrolling and fighting the occasional bandit.

"Gustave will be there too," Sylvain reminded him tonelessly, "he's a knight of Seiros, sure, but he's from Faerghus. It's not just strangers taking care of the matter."

Felix didn't answer, but his scowl deepened even more. Sylvain briefly thought about how wrinkled he'd become if he kept going like that, but that small thought was nothing compared to the freezing ice growing inside him.

So, for upteempth time, he did as he always did when he didn't want to think about how he felt about something. A wink and a joke.

"I'll admit I kind of wish I was part of it! Can you imagine Miklan's face if he saw his little brother in the team dispatched to take him down? That'd teach him a lesson or two, don't you think?"

Felix was not amused. He turned once more, glaring again at Sylvain's chin, not believing his light-hearted tone for one second.

"You feel like shit about it," he called his bluff without any hesitation.

"Well," Sylvain laughed awkwardly, feeling too tall for this conversation suddenly, he wanted to be able to curl into a ball, somewhere, "scum or not, he’s still my brother, you know?"

"He pushed you down a well."

Sylvain winced and tried to open his mouth. Felix didn't let him.

"He left you for dead in the mountains. He tried to kill you dozens of times. He may not have deserved all that happened to him and your father may have treated him unfairly, but that doesn't change the things he did."

That was unfair, Sylvain thought painfully. Felix wasn't raised by a father who cared more about crests than leading qualities, one who pitted them against each other from the very start. Rodrigue wasn't perfect, but he would have let both of his sons marry for love without issue, crest or no crest. The engagement with Ingrid had been done with the kids’ agreement and was more for her family’s benefit than anything else. Even now, with only one heir left alive, he wouldn't force Felix to keep his line going. He just wasn't that kind of person.

But saying that would be cruel. And despite the desire, burning on his tongue to be so, Sylvain swallowed it down.

"I don't expect you to get it," he simply said.

Felix's face at these words was unreadable. And what a punch to the chest that was, for Sylvain not to be able to read him. There was a glint in his eyes that almost looked like humour but could also be sadness. A small raise of an eyebrow that seemed to say 'are you kidding me?' and the twist of his lips that showed displeasure, probably? But he couldn't be sure. He opened his mouth and Sylvain decided quickly that he didn't want to go anywhere further into this slippery territory.

"Sylvain, I..."

"But you know what you could get?" he winked. "Lucky! I heard a rumour about a few comedians coming down in town tonight, I'm sure there are some who would really like to have fun with handsome noblemen such as ourselves, so what do you say?"

The disgust on Felix's features was refreshingly easy to read, but the anger on his face was every bit as embarrassed as the first time he had rejected Sylvain's offer for a night out and insulted his philandering ways. Sylvain loved that contrast. He loved how familiar it was.

"Come on," Sylvain winked, "it'll help you avoid your father!"

And just like that, Felix's anger simmered down to mere annoyance. Calm, but cold, his glare still present but not as burning.

"Forget it," he said briskly, "I have better things to do. Like training."

Pushing Sylvain aside, Felix strode down the corridor to leave the dormitories, to Sylvain's great satisfaction. Better that angry reaction than nothing.

"Don't forget class!" Sylvain reminded him. "Hanneman expects us in thirty!"

Felix didn't answer, but he was in class when it was time to be and that was satisfactory enough.

That night, Sylvain went to sleep feeling better than he had all day, satisfied in his knowledge that some things would probably never change. He didn't sleep any better than he had before, but a small consolation was still a consolation.

The morning after, Felix wasn't in class. Sylvain had heard him leave his bedroom at an undivine hour, as he usually did, so he knew he was up, but he didn't come. At all. His absence wasn't only surprising to him, clearly, as Ingrid and Dimitri kept stealing glances at his empty seat too, but the stares they exchanged had one thing in common: no one knew where he was.

Hanneman coughed once. Ingrid flushed and Dimitri apologized profusely.

"I know young Felix's absence is unusual," the man said, reproachful, "but it's not the first time one of yours leaves for a mission. He'll be back soon enough."

A mission? Dimitri apologized once again, mumbling that he didn't know Felix had left for a mission. Hanneman's face softened and Sylvain suddenly felt dread.

"Oh," he mumbled, "I figure he didn't tell you due to lack of time. I was told this morning not to expect him for the next week. He asked to be part of the expedition sent to retrieve the Lance of Ruin and apparently, professor Eisner accepted. They left early that morning, with the knights of Seiros."

The rest of the world stopped existing.

Sylvain didn't remember how to breathe.

Felix had gone to fight Miklan, Felix, his small friend with his thin shoulders who liked to act tough but was far too sensitive, was going to fight Miklan who had injured and pillaged and harmed so many and was Sylvain's brother and...

Felix was going to fight Miklan.

Sylvain was at least losing one dear person during that fight, maybe both if the Goddess felt particularly cruel. And Felix hadn't even said goodbye, he 'didn't have time' Hanneman had said.

Fear was a vice around his heart, he could feel a smile, comforting, tucking itself on his lips as he stared ahead, not seeing anything. What had Felix been about to tell him yesterday?

Just ignore it, he decided as if it was the only way he could survive. Just ignore it. Ignore it like you ignored Claude's schemes, Dimitri's wild eyes, Ingrid dating Petra and Dorothea despite how dating a foreign princess and a penniless diva could only lead them to heartbreak. Just ignore Felix disappearing on you all with no warning. It's nothing. Nothing of importance. There's no reason to worry.

There was nothing to do but wait after all. Wait. And regret, long after, when he wondered if he could have done anything had he not ignored all of these things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, did I forget to warn you? In case all of Judai's friends being dead didn't tip you off, there's going to be suffering in this story and I'm sorry (or not).  
> I couldn't decide if I wanted DoroGrid or DoroPetra so I ended up making it DoroPetraGrid x) this way everyone's happy.  
> On a much more positive note, next chapter should come pretty quickly, I'd like not to leave you guys on flashback chapters for too long since they tend not to advance the story...  
> By the way, it was very hilarious to edit this chapter with where I am in my outline right now xD so many of Sylvain's thoughts are deeply ironic and he doesn't even realize it.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judai learns a bit about the World and discovers that he's surrounded by broken people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's rip off the bandage. I hate Edelgard and I'm pretty sure CF is a trigger to me. As such I'll delete any debate about it in the comments. This is entirely a matter of my mental health and I'd be grateful if you could just respect that.  
> That's basically all I wanted to say. Now let's never mention it again.  
> Anyway, in more pleasant (I hope) news, we're going back to the present and have a bit more Judai today!

**Chapter 3**

_Let me tell you what I wish I’d known_

_When I was young and dreamed of glory:_

_You have no control_

_Who lives, who dies, who tells your story_

**23rd Day of the Ethereal Moon, Imperial Year 1185**

**Judai**

Sylvain was looking at him with an empty smile and cold, calculating eyes. Judai shifted a bit in his seat, more embarrassed by his blunder than worried about the young man.

"Well that's not what I expected," he said with an awkward laugh, "did he run away or something?"

"I'm the one asking questions," Sylvain answered lightly, "I'm pretty sure everyone here would like to know who you are, what you're doing with his Highness or where you come from. While you did not harm him, I hope you'll understand that we need to make sure you're not an Empire spy, after all."

"I'll be honest," Judai groaned, "I'm going to have a hard time answering those. My name is Judai Yuki, I come from some kind of tomb and the reason I'm with Mr. Corpse, or Dimitri I guess, is because he's the one who found me and woke me up."

"You don't remember anything from before the tomb?"

"I do, but he knew none of the names or places I mentioned, so I don't expect you to be familiar with them either."

"Try me."

So Judai sighed, mentioned a few names, like the influential families from his time, a few places, he even tried the word "Nabatean" just to see if that one got a reaction. Nothing. Sylvain's face didn't show any recognition. He didn’t dare try his friends’ names.

"This sounds like horseshit, you know that, right?" he smiled.

"Well why don't you ask Dimitri where he woke me up then?" Judai answered right back. "Because I'm as lost as you are, buddy."

And it wasn't really pleasant, though he didn't want to complain about the newfound human company that wasn't speaking to ghosts for once. Sylvain laughed, a sound without joy.

"Fair enough. So you were in a tomb. Like you were dead or something?"

"Close enough. I was sleeping. Deep. If I remember well, I was sitting on a throne when Dimitri woke me up."

That part lit something on Sylvain's face. A small memory.

"I do remember Felix mentioning something like that," the red-haired man hummed, "that there was a throne inside the Holy Tomb... But there should have only been one such tomb in Fodlan..."

There were going somewhere, Judai sighed with relief, even if it was just a small thing. Another tomb that bore a throne, even if Sylvain didn't know much about it.

"Why should there be only one?"

"Because there's only one Goddess, that question."

"Right... And who is the Goddess?"

Sylvain gave him a _look_. Somewhere between joking and incredulous.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope. Especially since I don't want to presume. Everything seems to have changed after all."

Sylvain blinked. And laughed, maybe a little harshly.

"Well be careful who you say that to, some would condemn you for heresy. I don't think you'll ever have to pronounce her name as we only ever call her the Goddess, but according to the written History, she's called Sothis."

It was like a spark as Judai's body reacted on its own. He jumped a little, eyes wide open as recognition, unexpected recognition, hit him right inside.

"Sothis?" he mumbled.

"So you know that name," Sylvain noted, considering, "that's one thing you know at least. And yet you didn't know she was the Goddess?"

Yes and no, Judai thought helplessly. Because he knew Sothis. And yes, she was a Goddess, a wonderful if bratty one, but a Goddess for sure, and definitely not the worst one to worship.

But she was _a_ Goddess. Not the only one. Sure, she was the greatest of them all, bringer of life and knowledge, now that he thought about it it made sense and he felt stupid not to have realized it immediately. But still!

What had happened during his sleep for her to be the only one people remembered?

"What's that look for?" Sylvain's tone was freezing cold, Judai needed to answer quickly. "Is there any problem?"

"Not exactly," Judai admitted, deciding that honestly was the best policy, "I just didn't expect it. Back when I was awake, Sothis walked among men after all."

"Excuse me, what?"

"But it makes sense," Judai added, thinking out loud, "she had to heal the land. If she used too much power to do so (” _As you did_ ,” Yubel reminded him), then she must have gone to sleep... And she could still be."

That would explain a lot, at least. Though Judai didn't want to think that the Nabateans had forgotten their duty to the land while watching over Sothis.

He came back to the present when realizing that he was surrounded by silence. He looked sheepishly at Sylvain, who seemed as bewildered as a man hiding emotions behind a smile could be, which was still quite a lot.

"I suppose it's hard to fathom," Judai mumbled, scratching at his wrist. Yubel was laughing in his head. He really didn't find the situation all that funny.

"Okay," Sylvain said then, eyes serious once more, "okay so let me be honest: I'm not sure I can trust you."

"That sounds fair." Annoying, but fair.

"You'll have a guard to watch over you at all times."

"Cool."

"He's here to make sure you don't do anything suspicious."

"Oh. Still cool I guess."

"We're going back to Fraldarius, so I guess Lord Rodrigue is going to decide what to do with you."

He had no idea where Fraldarius was or if it was really a place, but he nodded. Sylvain seemed satisfied by that.

"Good. Speaking of Fraldarius, right now, I am your guard, so you're going to have to follow me around."

Well, Judai didn't really have objections, now that he was in warmer clothes. He, however, had a lot of questions himself.

"Can I ask you a few things?" he said, trotting along Sylvain's long legs. "Because having no idea what's going on is pretty annoying, so I'd like, I don't know... History lessons? Something like that."

"We'll see about that later, right now we're going to see His Highness."

"I thought you said something about Fraldarius?"

Sylvain snorted, as if his question was funny. Judai sighed when he didn't answer. After the living corpse who almost wouldn't talk to him if not about his revenge, he had to get another uncooperative asshole. He just wanted to know more about where and when he was, why was it so hard?

His Highness Dimitri Alexandre Blaidydd crown prince of Faerghus and Judai's companion for the last days wasn't alone when they found him, which probably wasn't surprising, seeing how he was a missing prince that had just been found. What was more surprising was that only one person was here, and glaring daggers at the prince's back more than anything else. Judai recognized the young lord, Felix as Sylvain had called him, standing still with his arms crossed and his chin stubborn. He didn't look happy to be there.

"Hey," Sylvain said, "how is it going?"

Felix whipped his head back to him, his furious eyes glaring at Sylvain's shoulder as if it had personally offended him.

"How do you think?" he snarled back.

Sylvain's laughter was small, tentative and Judai was almost certain there was a bit of fear in it. Hope, too.

"So. It's really him?"

"It is," Felix grunted.

"We all thought him dead."

"Don't you believe me? I'd recognize that brutish Boar anywhere."

"I do," Sylvain rose his hands, placating, "I do believe you. It's just... He's so..."

"What?" Felix spat. "Beastly? Monstrous? Well what do you know, it’s been a while! He's just stopped hiding it."

It might have been the wrong moment for Judai to remember that he still had no idea why Sylvain had decided to go there 'speaking of Fraldarius'. Probably.

"Well, is a beast better than a corpse?" he asked with actual curiosity. "Because that's what he was calling himself these past days, so I wonder."

Felix and Sylvain both turned to him, as if they had forgotten his presence before he spoke. A little bit further, Dimitri was mumbling to the wind, ignoring them or forgetting their very existence.

Felix scowled at him, eyes to the ground.

"What do you know about him?"

"Not much. Only learnt his name a few minutes ago. We had three days together, you'd think he'd tell me."

His smile did not make the atmosphere any lighter, unfortunately. He shrugged as if it didn't matter. Felix was still glaring at the ground, anger like a monster that seemed about to swallow him whole. But there was something else, there, something he knew all too well.

"You're lucky he didn't tear you apart," he said harshly.

Yes, there was something familiar in the aggressive stance and moody words, sounding almost less insulting than desperate. Manjoume's steely eyes and harsh expression were like an afterimage that refused to leave him. And with Manjoume's face came a dozen others, all more precious and painful, one after the other.

" _Hey, Yubel... Do you think Johan is still around?_ "

He could feel their unease.

" _Judai,_ " Yubel sighed, " _they're talking to you._ "

It was answer enough, in its own way. Swallowing back the bile and the tears, he listened to Sylvain's laughter, both genuine and a bit awkward.

"Don't mind him," he was saying, not caring about Felix's glare, "he's like that with everyone."

"I didn't take it personally," Judai smiled softly.

He was used to these kinds of people after all. They had a mouth that said 'I hate you', but their eyes screamed 'please don't leave me'.

Felix scoffed and threw Sylvain's arms from his shoulders, when had Sylvain embraced him?

"You can watch over the boar if you want to die that badly," he snarled, "don't count on me to look."

He left, almost stomping. Judai had the feeling anger wasn't the only reason his step was so heavy.

"He says that," Sylvain said lightly, "but he was the first one to take watch."

He was, indeed. Judai smiled a bit despite himself.

But with Felix left the conversation. Sylvain stared at Dimitri's back, looking haunted and Judai stayed there, with the howling wind and Dimitri's insane muttering as the only sounds that kept him company. If not for that last one, he'd have asked Yubel to keep talking to him. Instead he waited. And sure, soon enough the muttering broke Sylvain from his reminiscing and he looked at his childhood friend with worry.

"Have you let Mercedes look at you, Your Highness?"

"There's no need," Dimitri answered without even turning, "leave."

"Wha... Of course there is, Your Highness! You could be hurt!" The worry in Sylvain's voice was painful to hear, as Judai knew he'd have to dash his hopes.

"He's not listening to you, right now. He'll only do what his ghosts tell him to."

"His ghosts?" Sylvain repeated numbly, looking sick.

"If you want him healed, you have to trick him into making him think it's what they want of him."

"And I guess saying so in front of him, like that, is smart?" Sylvain snarked at him.

"He's already not hearing us anymore, you can trust me on that. We can say whatever we want."

Dimitri's haunting whispers had started again, proof of what he had just said. Sylvain looked disturbed, ill at ease, and Judai wasn't blaming him. He felt like the only reason Dimitri's condition barely fazed him was because it had probably been the least confusing part of the last three days. Sure, a crazy man talking to ghosts, promising revenge and begging for forgiveness. Sounded like himself at his worst. He could work with that.

Sylvain turned to Dimitri again and changed tactics.

"So," he said loudly, walking purposefully towards the man, "where did you find your little companion?"

The loud noise did startle Dimitri into looking towards his friend. His shadowed blue eye glared at him and then moved to Judai, who Sylvain was pointing at.

"So," the man growled, "you weren't an apparition."

Judai almost laughed at that.

"I thought the pain on your face was proof enough."

Dimitri actually snorted. It wasn't exactly laughter, more of a disbelieving sound.

"I've been tricked by my imagination more than once," he said harshly, "some magical man sleeping on a throne and waking in front of me doesn't feel real."

He had a point, but what did feel real for him? Judai felt his mouth form a small scowl.

"What do you remember of the last three days?"

Dimitri's eye was dazed.

"Three?" he mumbled. "Was it three?"

Judai gave up. With how little the man had slept, it didn’t surprise him that much, to be honest.

"I don't think he'll be able to tell you much more," he said to Sylvain, "his mind is too muddled to remember everything properly."

The young man's face was unreadable, but the fact that he wasn't able to maintain his easy smile showed just how much the situation was weighing on him.

"At least he confirmed your version of how you met," he said in a clipped tone, "though that only raises more questions. I guess it'll have to wait until we reach Fraldarius."

"That's nice of you." Dimitri had gone back to muttering, unseeing, the world around him had disappeared. Judai forced his own easy smile back on his face. "You know what would be even nicer? Telling me what the Grandpa happened since I fell asleep, because absolutely nothing feels familiar, I'm almost wondering if I'm still in the same country and it's very confusing."

Sylvain groaned, looked at Dimitri, realized he wouldn't find any help there, and then sighed deeply.

"Okay, let's try to figure out where you stopped. Do you know how much time had passed since the War of Heroes when you fell asleep?"

Judai chuckled, knowing the sound coming out of his mouth was very, deeply embarrassed.

"Erm... The what?"

"The... The War of Heroes. I mean, it's common knowledge. The decades-long war that united Fodlan under the Adrestian Empire's banner after Saint Seiros defeated the King of Liberation during the Battle of Tailteann?"

Judai's heart jumped. Seiros. Finally a name he knew. He smiled a bit, but also knew he was going to ruin Sylvain's day.

"I don't know how to tell you that, but I had never heard of the Adrestian Empire before I heard Dimitri talk about how much he wanted to separate its leader's head from her shoulders."

Sylvain's face was, honestly, pretty funny. For a man clearly used to hide his emotions, he was terrible at masking forms of surprise. The way he started scratching at his head in wonder, though, showed that he at least wanted to try and be useful to him, something Judai was very grateful for.

"Oh wow. Even before that, huh. Well I don't know what to tell you. We don't really study much about History before the creation of the Empire. And well, it's year 1185. The Empire was founded in year 0."

Judai's world stopped turning.

His body was frozen in place and he felt his throat tighten. His eyes, he knew, must have been wide open in shock and bewilderment.

He had known it was probably a long time, the places had changed names, he didn't know anyone, and he had expected a few centuries, at most.

But more than a thousand years?

He was nauseous, suddenly.

"You okay?"

Sylvain's stare was back to being unreadable, a small easy smile hiding what he really felt. He didn't seem to take pleasure in Judai's shock and... was that grief, he already felt? But there wasn't much compassion either. He was just considering, neutral, trying to comprehend how much the situation had just changed.

Judai inhaled slowly and deeply, burying his feelings deep behind his easy-going facade.

"Peachy. So, could you please tell me what happened that you do know? Even if you don't go as far back as I was, I think it'll still help me get a grasp on the situation."

And Sylvain, and Judai would have blessed him for that if he could, just shrugged, winked, and started talking.

There was a lot to swallow.

Sylvain seemed to know his History despite acting like it was all common knowledge and nothing special to know. But it was still around a thousand years of historical facts to summarize the state of the world right now. The founding of the Empire. The War of Heroes, during which Nemesis, King of Liberation, had been slain by Saint Seiros. The end of the war when the Emperor succumbed to illness, the creation of Garreg Mach as a holy monastery, the Dagda invasion, the Brigid invasion and then, not that many years after, the war of the Eagle and the Lion that had birthed the Kingdom of Faerghus. Centuries without much happening, only for three wars to happen in thirty years, and wasn't that the very representation of why "may you live in interesting times" was a curse.

Then there was the Leicester rebellion, and the Crescent Moon War. Reasons why the land was currently divided between three powers that were now at war.

Judai's head hurt. He was still confused out of his mind, the name of Seiros being the only one that made him think that he was still in the same place he had fallen asleep in (because surely, a Saint, a holy woman who marked the world, had great chances of being the young yet powerful Nabatean he used to know).

But at least he kind of knew where he was, when, and the situation around him. The Empire declared war on the Church of Seiros and used it to justify invading the Holy Kingdom and the Alliance. Judai let his head rest against his hand, eyes lost in the snow. The horse he was on kept walking, docile.

Killing people over what they believed had always seemed like such a waste for Judai, he never understood it. Holy crusades were a terrible thing, but going the other way around, killing whoever believed in a faith you disliked, seemed almost worse. You weren't even fighting or killing _for_ something, but _against_ something. Who did that except for madmen or control-freaks with no empathy?

" _Or you?_ " a voice sounding like his own hissed in his mind. " _Didn't you fight against anyone who'd oppose you once?_ "

"Yes," he muttered quietly, "but I was a madman."

Yubel's worried voice tutted against his ear and he smiled slightly, trying to comfort them. I'm better, he tried to express, I won't fall again.

Seiros and Sothis. Two names he knew of. Seiros, the only one of Sothis' children that he heard mentioned. Sylvain hadn't pronounced the name of any of his friends. He would be lying if he didn't admit that it terrified him. Maybe he should have asked… Maybe not knowing was better...

Sighing, he turned towards Sylvain, who was holding the horse's reins. The man was speaking to Mercedes, joking. On Judai's other side, Felix's stare was serious, firm, stuck on Dimitri's back with some kind of stern unease.

They held lances, Dimtri and Sylvain. The one Dimitri bore, he had already seen and wondered about. Sylvain's, however, managed to surpass it in both creepiness and how disturbing it looked. It was foul, haunting, almost alive in its hate and Judai kind of wished he could stay away from it.

Just looking at it made him sick, so Judai turned to Felix.

The pretty young man had his hand laying on the handle of his sword, seemingly ready to draw it at any instant. Judai didn't know if he was readying himself in case a fight started out of nowhere or if he was itching for one. The way he looked at Dimitri seemed to imply he expected him to attack any second. From how unpredictable the man could be, Judai supposed it was a fair assumption.

"So," he asked softly, "how long has he been like that?"

The tic that agitated Felix's mouth was annoyed, but he didn't jump in surprise, nor did he turn towards Judai. He, however, stayed stubbornly silent. Judai pouted, wondering how he could make him speak. Talking his ear off until he snapped at him to shut up sounded like a good idea.

"Whatever you're thinking about doing," Felix said before he could start, "don't even try it."

"I didn't know you were psychic."

"I'm not, I just know enough idiots to recognize one from afar."

A laugh bubbled into Judai's throat, weirdly sincere, as some kind of fondness quietly made its way inside him. So prickly, yet so attentive to what was going on outside of him. It was sweetly familiar.

"Fine, then how do I get you to answer?"

"Can't you just keep quiet?"

"Nope, I can be pretty annoying when I want an answer and I'm currently _terribly bored_ and with nothing else to do. So. How long has your crown prince been acting like a depressed caveman?"

Felix rolled his eyes and turned stubbornly away. Judai mentally counted to ten. Well, eight, really, before Felix growled an answer.

"Nine years."

Oh wow. That was... quite more than Judai expected to be honest.

"I thought the war only started five years ago."

"He didn't wait for the war to become a beast," Felix scoffed, "the others won't agree because he used to try to hide it. But he's been this way since Duscur."

Duscur. Sylvain had barely mentioned it. Something about the King dying there. It had looked like a sore topic, so Judai had figured he could ask about it at a later date.

" _Not him_ ," Yubel said softly in his ear, " _he won't answer either. Not right now._ "

Judai nodded slightly.

"And how long has he been missing, then?"

"Around five years, now."

Which was a lot too. Living alone in the wild, with only hallucinations for company. Judai frowned. He figured it was enough to turn anyone to madness. Felix's brow was furrowed as he kept staring at Dimitri's back. He hadn't looked in Judai's direction once.

"You've been looking for him," Judai guessed, "that's what you were doing, there."

"We have better things to do than looking for a dead man."

"You thought him dead?"

"The dukedom said they had executed him."

Was that derision in his voice? Judai smirked despite himself. Really, he was terrible at hiding his feelings, if he was even trying.

"You didn't believe it," he said simply.

"I didn't care. But the body they hung on the remparts of Fhirdiad wasn't his."

A shiver shook Judai's frame as nausea rose up in his chest. Right. War. Gratuitous cruelty was to be expected.

"Did you get to check?" he asked, almost cursing himself for his curiosity.

To his surprise, Felix answered. "A friend did."

Friend. Judai was almost surprised to hear him say such a word easily.

"I thought Fhirdiad was occupied. You managed to have friends infiltrate it?"

"At the time, yes. Not anymore. Too dangerous."

The way he said it, was clipped as if it was physically painful. Whatever the story, Judai guessed it was a lot more complicated than what he was saying.

Judai hummed.

" _So he knew the prince was alive,_ " Yubel summised.

"So you knew the prince was alive," Judai repeated.

Felix finally turned to him, only to look at Judai's shoulder, as if avoiding his gaze. Judai wondered about that, feeling it wasn't disrespect or even dishonesty. It was more like looking into Judai's eyes hadn't even come to his mind. Now that he thought about it, had Felix looked directly at him even once?

"I guess we hoped," he said curtly.

Feeling like he had pulled hard enough on the subject already, Judai let the silence deepen a bit around them.

"I was wondering," he started again after a bit, "will Sylvain have to watch over me even once we reach... Fraldarius, was it?"

Wonder among wonders, Felix snorted, not unlike Dimitri earlier. The sound was a bit amused, if more bitter than anything.

"Probably not. Knowing Sylvain, he's going to be too busy watching _me_ to guard you."

"Watching you?" Judai asked, confused. "Why is that?"

Felix shrugged as if the matter was unimportant. The weary look on his face, that he quickly hid behind a scowl, betrayed his real feelings about it.

"The people there don't trust me," he said simply, "I made some choices they disliked, and so they don't trust me."

That sounded ridiculous.

"What, did you defend the Empire's actions or anything?"

"Certainly not!" Felix's growl was offended, angry, and Judai rose a placating hand. Felix glared at it as if it was going to try to hit him and like he'd bite it if it dared. Judai put it down sheepishly.

"Then what have you done that would deserve distrust?"

"I'm just friends with some people they don't like," he said harshly, "and it's war. Some people become overly petty and suspicious because of nothing."

He strode off, just far enough so Judai wouldn't have been able to talk to him without yelling, thus attracting Sylvain's attention. Judai looked at him, feeling a stone dropping inside his stomach.

‘It's war’, Felix had said, and he was right. So maybe it was to be expected that these people would be so deeply wounded it actually hurt to speak to them.

It didn't mean it didn't make him feel like crap...

It took them around four more hours to reach castle Fraldarius. Judai's first thought was that he had expected it to be bigger. It wasn't that the castle was small per say, but it looked more practical than grand or homey. Which wasn't what he thought the castle of arguably the biggest force in the Kingdom would look like. And from what he had learnt, it wasn't just the biggest force _left_ , which could have explained it. No, the Fraldarius family was the most important after the royal one. Duke Fraldarius, whoever he was, was the second most important person in the Kingdom after Dimitri and had been for a long time.

" _Not everyone enjoys big spires and threatening walls, love._ " Yubel reminded him.

" _Urgh, don't make me think about it._ "

" _You've always had a love for the dramatics, don't try to deny it._ "

He shoved them mentally and they laughed. Sylvain was speaking softly to Felix, whose face looked more somber and angry each passing second. When he answered, it sounded more like a growl than an actual answer, but Judai could still distinguish the words " _The old man can come down by himself._ ", which didn't help much to understand what they were talking about.

Oh, well, not like he had anything to do but wait. He poked Sylvain's shoulder.

"Hey, can I come down? I'm not really used to horses, so I'm a bit sore right now."

"Can't handle the saddle, kiddo?" the red-haired man laughed.

"You'd be surprised at what I can handle," Judai answered drily, "but seriously, my legs want to feel the ground."

Sylvain helped him down with one more teasing remark, about his backside this time. His legs felt like jelly and walking was awkward for a few seconds. He wondered how cavalier soldiers dealt with it on the battlefield, it sounded like something he wouldn't be able to do.

"You get used to it," Sylvain promised, the sparkle in his eyes amused but still cold, "after a few years it'll seem as natural as walking."

"Speak for yourself," Judai mumbled. He was much more used to flying than riding and it showed, and even then, it was his own wings he used. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure the kingdom used winged beasts. Or maybe they did, just not for scouting missions?

He had his answer quite quickly as a Pegasus swiftly flew above their heads, rushing towards the castle. Its rider, whoever it was, wore pure white armor and green fabric. Sylvain let out a chuckle.

"Good, Ingrid's back. She'll talk to Rodrigue since Felix... Where is Felix?"

Judai looked around and yes, indeed, the young man had slipped away without warning. One could see him striding towards the castle with most of the soldiers. His step was annoyed, angry. Sylvain groaned and searched, probably for Mercedes so she could watch him while he ran to the young lord. So Felix was right when he said that Sylvain didn't trust him? That sounded so strange.

Judai understood not trusting _him_ , he was a weird guy who had appeared out of nowhere with the missing prince after all. But Felix? He stared at the ground, in thought. He had said he was friends with people the others didn't like, but had sounded offended when Judai had supposed he was talking about the Empire. Judai turned these things inside his head, again and again, but he didn't find more answers in it than when he was talking to him.

"The Duke is coming, kiddo. You should raise your head."

The Duke. Right, Duke Fraldarius, who would have the last word on what would happen to him. His eyes shot back to the castle, trying to find whoever the Duke was in the group of men and women walking towards them. There was one, walking ahead, purposefully. His step was quick-paced, almost shaking in anticipation and his face...

Oh.

His face, his hair, his everything looked terribly like Felix. He had wavy hair and wrinkles, small things that showed his age but looked more laughing than weeping. He almost seemed less tired by the war than the young soldiers accompanying Judai were.

Judai swallowed. The soldiers had called Felix 'young lord', but he hadn't connected the dots.

"Oh," he mumbled, "I had not realized."

"What?" Sylvain asked absent-mindedly.

"Felix. He's a Fraldarius."

"Well, yes. And I'm a Gautier."

"... Right." Who the Freak were the Gautiers already? The other bastion of resistance, maybe?

This was far too much information in so little time for Judai's poor brain. He never had the best memory for whatever didn't fascinate him, after all, how could one expect him to retain the names of every great family around here when he had first heard them today? He was already trying with all his might to remember the things he had learnt about Seiros earlier...

" _I'll remember for you, love,_ " Yubel sighed, a chuckle hidden behind their fake resignation.

" _You're a life-saver._ " He almost sobbed.

" _It's what I do, love, saving your life. You're kind of bad at saving yourself._ "

" _Lies don't suit you._ "

" _It's good, then, that I don't remember saying any._ "

Duke Fraldarius was saluting Sylvain when he saw Dimitri. His eyes opened wide, almost comically. And then, they wavered. Judai could have sworn he saw tears gathering at their corners. He turned away, pretty sure whatever was happening was none of his business and him looking with curious interest wouldn't be appreciated. A hand fell on his arm, at the end of it he found Mercedes, smiling sweetly as always.

"Did the journey treat you well?" she asked warmly.

A small glance on the side showed that Sylvain hadn't waited to rush behind the soldiers leaving. Felix had disappeared from view, Judai suspected he didn't want to see his father.

His chest felt tight. What had happened. 'People here don't trust me', he had said, what could have happened that made it so his own blood wouldn't trust him, to the point that he didn't seem shocked at Sylvain acting like some kind of jailer.

"Y _ou don't have the best life givers in the world,_ " Yubel reminded him, " _don't think too hard about it._ "

" _Yeah, but not everyone has my parents either._ "

" _Really,_ " Yubel laughed, " _you barely know the guy. Maybe it's nothing bad. Are you that worried because he's your type? Or is it because you feel like you have to help anyone you cross paths with, my little hero?_ "

The warmth that rose in Judai's cheeks was embarrassing and he wished he could hiss at them out loud. Mercedes looked worried for a second.

"Ah, I'm fine," he said quickly, "just confused by everything."

The young woman smiled and really, she was a saint and Judai wanted her to hug him but also wasn't sure how to ask that from her.

"I can at least help you visit the grounds," she promised, "do you want to follow me? I think Duke Fraldarius will be busy with His Highness for a while."

"Sorry you got saddled with me, Mercedes. If you have things to do, don't worry, I can follow you there until there's someone else to show me around."

The priestess chuckled softly.

"Oh no, dear. You're no bother. And I don't think you'll be under my watch for a long time, I'm pretty sure they intend to have Ingrid escort you."

That was a nice way to put what they were really doing, but Mercedes had been nothing if not nice.

"The Pegasus Knight we saw earlier, right?"

Mercedes nodded. One name down, Judai, good job.

"She can be hard on people at first," Mercedes smiled, "but she means well. She tries not to be unfair on people and she works really hard."

For a second, he saw blonde hair in his head and he missed Asuka dearly. A hard worker who could be hard and severe but meant well, huh. Well, wasn't that familiar too...

"I knew someone like that," he mumbled.

Mercedes looked at him, her smile sadder as they started walking towards the castle. Contrary to the others, too busy drowning in their own confusion, he had no doubt she had realized that if he was telling the truth, then he had lost _everyone_.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really, no," he sighed, "but I've been wondering... what did Felix do to deserve such treatment?"

“What do you mean?”

“Sylvain seems to refuse to let him out of his sight?”

The priestess laughed, a small, cristalline sound that held no mean feeling, as if it was nothing to worry about.

"Oh, don't you worry. Felix did nothing wrong. Sylvain just watches over him because he has a tendency to act rashly, and right now we can't exactly allow ourselves to be reckless."

That wasn't what Felix had said, but she seemed to believe it. Judai felt even more confused than before. Maybe it wasn’t his business and he shouldn’t try to make it his. But it was just the way he was, he figured, biting his lip. He just wanted to help, badly, and was terrible at it, as always.

Mercedes didn't bring him inside the castle, more interested in showing him the structures surrounding it, like the barracks, the garden, the greenhouse, pigpens, and most of the things that allowed the castle to not lay too much on the citizens, whose lives were already made ten times harder because of the war. She was speaking happily, her breathy voice making it sound as if she was a proud mother showing off her children's creations. Judai wondered how old she was, she couldn't be much older than Sylvain, could she?

As they got close to the castle once again, they could see a group of people, hanging around an elegant building separated from the main one. It wasn't really tall, but it looked important, almost as if the castle meant to protect it.

"That's the temple," Mercedes smiled at him, "there's a church in the city, but there is a smaller chapel, here, we call it the temple."

"The temple... Why are there so many people in front of it?"

"I don't know," Mercedes admitted without losing her smile, though it became inquisitive, "I'll guess His Highness decided to go pray. That would attract attention."

Judai tilted his head, pensively. Dimitri didn't strike him as the religious type, but at the same time, what did he know about the man, really? Did Faith manage to slither beneath the rage and the ghosts, like a small ray of light? He figured it was a reprieve, probably a step on the right path, if it was the case.

"Well, I'd rather see it when there are less people around, if it's not a bother..." he laughed, slightly ashamed.

There had been enough stares on the way here to last him for a year. Mercedes smiled simply and just nodded, bringing him around to reach the last outside area. It wasn't very big, in fact, it looked more like a half-hearted addition to a part of the castle. There were a few dummies and some shelves holding various materials, but mostly, wooden weapons.

Training grounds.

And on it, two men were fighting already. It wasn't hard to recognize Felix and Sylvain's blue and red hair, clashing violently, one with a sword, one with a lance. Judai turned to Mercedes, not sure if it was cause for alarm. With the way she chuckled, he guessed not, but he was starting to wonder if the nice lady wouldn't look at two people killing each other and coo, saying that her babies grew up so fast.

"The training grounds seem small," he said slowly.

"Oh, most of them are inside. You see, the northern territories tend to get snowed in a lot in winter, it's quite surprising that it's not, right now. But when the weather is nice, some prefer training outside, thus that addition. Felix has always been one who hated staying locked inside so it's not surprising that they shall be there."

Talking about Felix, Judai hadn't wielded the sword in... well, even before he went to sleep, it had been a few years. His preferred style was also pretty different from the one the young Fraldarius lord was using, but even he could see clearly how clean his swordplay was. Elegant, technical, efficient, without margin for error. It looked like second nature, like it was as easy as breathing. In front of him, Sylvain was giving back with an ease that spoke of experience, but while Judai didn't know much about lances, he seemed to be reacting a lot more than actually trying to attack. He was fighting _back_ more than fighting, in a way. Not that Judai was surprised, he wasn't sure he'd fare any better in front of the harsh cuts and aggressive disposition. Somehow, it managed to almost look like a dance.

"He's really good," Judai said, impressed.

"He is, isn't he?" Mercedes giggled with her usual proud mother tone. "Even back at the academy, he was probably the best swordsman outside the professor. I've been told that even Sir Catherine was impressed by him. Dimitri was the best with the lance, though. And Lysithea was the best at Reason magic, while Claude was the best with the bow..."

Her words became quieter, slowly, as her smile faded. For one second only, she looked incredibly sad and Judai wondered if these last two people were still alive, for her to react that way. She started smiling again soon enough. If she was smiling again, there was probably no reason not to ask, was there?

"You said a few names I don't know. Are they there? Will I meet them?"

He was especially interested by that "Reason Magic" she talked about. Was it any similar to the one they learnt in his days?

"Oh, no, dear. Lysithea and Claude aren't citizens of the Kingdom, they're from the Alliance of Leicester!"

The Alliance. Sylvain had mentioned it, the third faction. Smaller, in perpetual turmoil, currently neither supporting the Empire nor really fighting it for reasons that Judai couldn't remember, but they had seemed logical at the time. Though he wondered if they could have pushed the Empire back if they had allied with the Kingdom, the very fact that half of the government opposed it was a problem.

... Oh, maybe that was the reason Judai couldn't remember.

"I hadn't realized Garreg Mach academy wasn't a Kingdom only thing. Were there many people from other places?"

"Ah, yes," Mercedes sighed with nostalgia, "it was a wonderful place. The monastery of Garreg Mach is a holy ground, right in the center of Fodlan, joining all three territories. It used to be an officer academy that anyone could join to get instructed in the arts of war, healing, research, tactics, and many other things. It was also great for international relationships."

"Really? Even the Empire went there?"

"Of course. In fact..." she sighed again, sadness in her breath. "In fact we are fighting our very classmates in this war. The Emperor of Adrestia was the Black Eagles' class representative when we went there."

There were probably about a thousand words more appropriate than 'well that sucks' to describe the situation, but Judai couldn't find any. He bit his lip and chose to satisfy his curiosity. The subject matter might be awful, but Mercedes didn't seem to mind after all.

"... Black Eagles?"

"Oh! Well, there were three classes, one for each country in fact. The Black Eagles were the Empire's class. The Golden Deer were the Alliance's, and the Blue Lions were the Kingdom's. Most of us, here, Ingrid, Sylvain, Dimitri... even I, we were part of the Blue Lions when the war started."

"Separating according to country of origin? That doesn't seem an efficient way of creating international relationships."

Though it was probably better than his own academy back in the days, he thought bitterly, where your very class could decide whether you'd have any chance at graduating or not.

"Don't be silly," Mercedes laughed, "it was simply a decision made so you'd have more chances at finding yourself with people you know. If the curriculum of another class seemed more appealing to you, you could transfer. A few students did that, in fact."

If she said so. It wasn't like Judai was here, so he couldn't really judge. He smiled at her, something smaller, sad. She had been so nice, all this time, really, like she was forcing her sadness behind a joyful veil of optimism and kindness. She couldn't be doing that for herself, he guessed, but for whose sake was the question.

"I'm sorry you have to fight old friends," he said sincerely, "it can't be easy."

Mercedes' smile broke and her lip wobbled for a second. Her smile was back, quickly, but he hadn't missed the tears that had rushed to her eyes before she'd swallowed them back. She nodded mutely, a thanks in all but words and he wondered, feeling sick, who it was that she had to fight, exactly.

"Old friends or not," a firm voice said behind him, "it doesn't matter anymore. They are enemies, now. All those who aren't here."

Judai jumped and turned sharply, mentally swearing at Yubel for not warning him that someone was coming. They shrugged, saying they hadn't wanted to distract him from that deep and sincere conversation he was having for once, and begrudgingly he had to admit they had a point. The woman who had come near was blonde, though her hair was brighter than Mercedes'. It was short and simple, but elegant. Her face was pretty, he supposed, but her gaze looked somber, solemn. There was a bit of blood on her left hand, he realized, like she was slightly wounded. But mostly, he noticed the armor, familiar, blindingly white, green fabric under the parts it didn’t cover. The pegasus rider.

"Ingrid," Mercedes said in a reproachful tone, "you don't mean that. Especially the Alliance, they haven't fought us, have they? They're just trying to survive and stay as neutral as they can."

The woman frowned and her eyes fell on the training grounds for a second, before darting back to Mercedes, and then Judai.

"Who is he?" she asked her friend.

Pretty sure he could talk for himself, Judai coughed.

"No one important. I'm just the one who found your lost prince."

"He brought Dimitri back here," Mercedes added cheerfully.

There was a silence, heavy with shock, where Judai was pretty sure that he could see Ingrid's brain freeze, shut down, restart and then go through a dozen emotions by second.

When she opened her mouth, there was only one, trembling word that managed to pass through her lips, hopeful, scared, and ecstatic at the same time.

"What?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me writing this chapter: "... one day someone will stab Judai and he'll just shrug and say 'meh, fair enough', I swear."


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ingrid falls in love and rediscovers how love means pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another flashback chapter today! Gonna be honest, I toyed with making this one a bonus chapter (as there are going to be a few of those on a separate story) since I didn't plan to have anymore chapters from Ingrid's pov in the future, but I decided to keep it. Will that mean more Ingrid pov chapters? No idea, we'll see!  
> Anyway, this time, we figure out how IngriDoroPetra happened... and how they came to their current situation.  
> Also, I know that we technically can't unlock DoroGrid's paralogue that early but since neither were recruited I decided to bend the rules a bit... spoilers I am going to bend the rules a lot and quite often if it makes things more logical in context here x) that's the magic of fanfiction after all.

**Chapter 4**

_Love hurts_

_But sometimes it’s a good hurt_

_And it feels like I'm alive_

_Love sings_

_When it transcends the bad things_

_Have a heart and try me_

_'Cause without love, I won't survive_

**15th Day of the Blue Sea Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

**Ingrid**

Ingrid hadn't gone to Garreg Mach to have fun. Sure, knowing that his Highness, Sylvain and Felix would be coming as well had been wonderful news, she had barely seen His Highness and Felix since the tragedy of Duscur and she missed them terribly. But she was here for business reasons, she needed to graduate, with honours if possible, both to accomplish her duty as the heiress of Galatea, and to become the knight she _knew_ she could be. So while her childhood friends' presence was a bonus, she had come here with academic purpose before anything.

Which probably, if one looked at it from afar, explained why she was currently hiding out in the training grounds, desperately trying to avoid Annette's newfound obsession with putting make-up on her face. She didn't have time for this and after letting the nice young girl do so once, twice, each time taking far too long for her restless legs, she had to resign herself to the fact that the red-haired girl wouldn't get tired of it anytime soon.

She checked quickly that, no, Annette wouldn't come here just to rip her from her hiding spot, that she wasn’t anywhere in sight, and then she sighed. As long as she was there, might as well put the place to use. So she moved away from the door, scanning the area, wondering if she should get her lance, or maybe take a sword, other options were always a life-saver on the battlefield she knew, and she'd be lying if she said the idea of her defeating enemies with a rapier, like the Hero of Daphnel, wasn't a picture that made the little girl inside her flush with pride.

She fully expected to see Felix's navy bun here, surly but methodical, performing move after move in such a practiced way that it would seem natural. And despite the way her old friend could act most of the time, she would have been ecstatic to see him. Except for maybe Sir Catherine or professor Byleth, she was pretty sure there was no one more knowledgeable in the academy when it came to swords.

What she didn't expect, however, was the princess of Brigid's purple hair, flowing, after her opponent, a deeply contrite Ferdinand von Aegir, accidentally ripped her hair tie.

"This will be not an issue," the princess swore, "I can keep on the fight."

"Surely not," Ferdinand almost begged, "I know how important your braid is."

And despite her protests, Petra was biting her lip, looking ill at ease. Ingrid didn't know much about Brigid, she was ashamed to admit. She knew about crops and infrastructures at home, and which animals thrived in the harsh environment, and which wouldn't survive. She also knew about how much taxes were too much taxes, about how to gauge when a year had been too bad for what was usually asked. She knew about trade routes going into Galatea territory and about which merchants and nobles were powerful or rich enough to save the place from ruin. But she knew nothing of countries on the other side of the borders. So maybe Petra's braid was indeed important for her and her country, what did she know. If it was the case, then she might be able to do something?

"Excuse me," she said as she collected the ribbon on the ground, "do you need some help with that?"

Ferdinand let out a relieved sigh when he saw her.

"Oh, lady Galatea! Perfect timing, we're in quite the predicament, would you be gracious enough to help us out?"

Ingrid knew nothing about make-up, didn't care about it and probably never would. But hair? Hair she knew and she mastered. Her childhood friends almost all used to have long hair, and there had been many braiding sessions that even today remained some of her fondest memories. So with Petra's careful but hesitant instructions, she put her hands into the beautiful purple hair and started braiding. It was a complicated, intricate matter, and with the way Ferdinand hovered over them like a worried mother hen, she suspected he didn't know much about hair-styling outside of his usual neat and proper short haircut. He looked like someone who spent a lot of time taking care of his appearance so it was slightly surprising, but she had seen weirder, especially if he wasn't used to long hair.

Finally, the hair was braided again. As Petra looked at it with Ferdinand's hand mirror, the quiet princess gave one of these rare, big smiles.

"I have a lot of gratitude," she said, bowing to Ingrid, "there will be repayment."

Ingrid wanted to say that there was no need, surely. But before she could say so, her eyes fell on the sword the young girl had been holding all this time.

"There's no need for a favour," she said softly, "it was nothing but basic decency. But if you need to thank me there is one thing I can think of."

"Say your desire!"

"Would you teach me how to use a sword?"

To her dismay, Petra's sweet face fell and she looked away, as if it was physically painful to hear such words.

"Oh. I wish I had the ability. But I do not know the sword of Fódlan."

"But my dear Petra," Ferdinand said with awe, "Brigid's sword techniques are both quick and efficient. Surely, even if it's not the traditional techniques that are taught in Fódlan, lady Galatea would be delighted to learn them."

Ingrid hadn't thought about that. And she would be lying if she said she hadn't had a small moment of hesitation when she realized the young woman was right. But then, when she thought about it, she could ask professor Byleth or Felix to help her with Fódlanese sword-wielding technique anytime. When would she ever get again the chance to ask Petra for her help?

"It would be an honour to be taught Brigid's fighting style," she said sincerely.

Petra's smile was small, but blinding.

"You have much kindness."

"I shall leave you to it, then," Ferdinand said, whipping his hair in a way that had to be practiced, surely, "thank you again for your time, Petra, you are a truly wonderful training partner."

"I have the pleasure," Petra insisted, "thank you for the time."

As they enforced politeness upon each other in such a sweet way that Ingrid couldn't help but smile, she chose a sword, the thin kind that didn't weigh much. She was a fast fighter after all, privileging speed over raw power. Petra smiled at her choice.

"We start with grip," she said, "your right hand needs more height."

The training session lasted around an hour until someone disturbed them, which was probably the right moment as Ingrid was starting to feel exhausted, and Petra looked even more so. But despite all the other people training around them, the only one who decided to interrupt the fierce girls was, of course, because Ingrid was damned by the Goddess - okay maybe it was a bit dramatic but still, the beautiful and stubborn Dorothea Arnault.

"Oh dear," she giggled seeing them, "the two of you are a sight I could get used to. But surely you're starting to feel tired, aren't you?"

Ingrid flushed, probably brighter than she intended to. Ever since that expedition where they had investigated the man who had petitioned for Ingrid's hand, ever since she had gotten Luin back, ever since that _cursed proposal_ , she had been absolutely unable not to blush every time the diva entered her line of sight.

That was stupid of her, she knew and kept repeating mentally, Dorothea hadn't meant anything when she had joked about Ingrid giving her a ring. It was just that, a joke.

And yet after so many proposals from men, all more repulsive than the last one, that joking proposal, from a beautiful songstress who had just helped her unearth her newest pretendant's disgusting nature, had sounded like the Sky taking pity on her. She had flushed and stammered and begged the young woman not to joke like that and Dorothea had taken it in stride, with a bit of laughter and then had moved on. Ingrid had focused as hard as possible on her heart, begging it to stop thumping.

Since then, Dorothea Arnault had been the bane of her focus.

"I apologize," Petra was saying when she managed to get her heart back into control, "the time was fast today. Lady Galatea is wonderful at company."

And here she was, blushing again, though it was more manageable.

"The pleasure was all mine," she assured, "you are a fascinating instructor, princess Petra."

"The name is enough," Petra bowed, "I am Petra."

It felt incredibly disrespectful to accept her wishes, Ingrid wanted to protest, just like she was unable to call Dimitri by his given name despite their friendship, a constant since their childhood.

But Petra wasn't her future sovereign, so maybe, just maybe it would be okay?

"Are you sure?" she asked anyway.

Dorothea laughed, a musical sound that made her cheeks warm once again and oh Goddess was that a wink?

"Ingrid, my dear, believe me when I say that our darling Petra won't let you call her by her title. You nobles, I swear, so focused on proper behaviour the idea of not being respectful to other nobles makes you red in the face."

Oh, wonderful Dorothea, if only it really was impropriety that made her red in the face.

"We all have our strengths and weaknesses," she answered in what she hoped wasn't too much of an offended tone, "I might have been raised to be proper, but I can still climb trees, wrestle someone to the ground or get my knees scraped. I however tend to draw the line at not showing someone the respect I should give them."

Dorothea laughed, almost swooning with exaggeration.

"A noble lady who doesn't mind getting down and dirty, you really are a woman after my own heart, darling."

Well that settled it, she was definitely tomato red.

"I do not have understanding," Petra said suddenly, "why is it that climbing trees mean lady Galatea wants Dorothea's heart?"

Dorothea gasped, putting a hand on her heart dramatically.

"Oh, my dear Petra. I shall not defile your innocent ears with my indecent blabbering, no matter how prettily you bat your cute eyelashes at me."

Petra opened her mouth, likely to ask for more questions. Ingrid interrupted her, hoping to change the topic at hand.

"So prin... Petra, I was wondering about your make-up. It's really complex. Does it have significance?"

"Yes!" the young girl said, eyes brightening considerably. "I saw that you had make-up too, lady Galatea. It is rare."

"Ingrid, please. If I'm not to call you by your title, I'd beg you to do the same. And yes... A friend decided to have fun with my face, we'll say, I'm not one for make-up."

Petra nodded wisely and then pointed at her own purple marks.

"The make-up is the tradition of Brigid. It is a representation of my status. The purple is the colour of the royal family. It is only allowed for..."

As Petra explained, soft musical voice beautiful in its enthusiasm, Ingrid let herself feel more relaxed. Dorothea was looking at them both, fondly, but never interrupting.

When professor Manuela entered the grounds, wondering where the two of her students who hadn't done their chores yet were, Ingrid hadn't realized how time had passed.

She quietly hoped there'd be other occasions for her to spend time with these two kind girls.

***

**30th Day of the Verdant Rain Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

Perhaps it was because she had been raised with a bunch of boys, but Ingrid often felt disconnected from most of her fellow women's wants or from what was expected from her. She had heard from Lorenz Gloucester, usually so courteous towards noble ladies, that the way she ate wasn't dignified, something she had taken personal offense in seeing as she had made the same reproach to Raphael not two days before. Surely she wasn't as bad as the kind-hearted blonde man, she thought, pouting. And while she knew she wasn't one to stand back and let others do the dirty work, she didn't feel like it was a particularly masculine trait. Of all the young women studying at the academy, the only one who had seemed to whine about it was Hilda Goneril and from what she had heard, it wasn't about being a woman, but about being ‘weak’.

Ingrid remembered being shoved by her during their mock battle, a few moons ago, and she begged to disagree.

But perhaps it was because she had been surrounded by boys that she had no idea how to react to Dorothea's numerous joking advances. At least, she figured they were joking, but ever since that time at the training grounds, the songstress had been looking for her, every day, smiling, joking, flirting, and all of that with an insistence that she only ever remembered seeing in Sylvain. Except Sylvain's flirting sounded almost insulting to her ears. Dorothea's however, sounded much more like a joke she wanted to share with her.

And to not help matters, the young woman was often accompanied by Petra, who seemed to take great pleasure in asking Dorothea to explain all of her flirtations, to the point that Ingrid was starting to wonder if she did so just because she wanted to see Ingrid blush and stammer.

The two girls had trained again together. Brigid's style was fast-paced and unrelenting, more concerned about not letting go than raw power. It suited Petra so well, Ingrid could have watched her demonstrate for hours. Realizing so hadn't been good for her focus either. She stayed awake at night, half-dreaming about long, flowy hair, sometimes brown, sometimes purple. This wasn't right, she knew, these infatuations couldn't go anywhere. She was to be a knight or to marry someone who would save the Galatea territories. Both of these were incompatible with her growing attraction to these girls. By the Goddess, was she turning into Sylvain, that she was considering romancing them both?

So of course, fate had to laugh at her.

The Miklan matter had been brought to the Archbishop and Ingrid had felt ill that Sylvain's good for nothing brother would dare go that far. She had wanted to be with her solace, these two wonderful girls. And fate had laughed at her, for when she found them, Petra and Dorothea were locked in a tender embrace, softly kissing each other.

Ingrid stared at them, numbly, maybe dumbly too, feeling some weird cracking pain inside of her chest.

Oh.

Of course. What else should she have expected. What an idiot she was. And it was better like that, she had no time for these things, she would be a knight or she'd rule her territories. It was better this way.

So why did it hurt so much?

She whirled around, disappearing quietly before the girls noticed her. There was something wet in her eyes so she wiped it angrily, pointedly not noticing how her hand was shaking. There were a lot of things that needed to be done. She wanted to have tea with lord Rodrigue, train more with the lance, she had focused too much on swords recently, she also needed to study more tactics and politics, and to send a letter to her father, but nothing felt more urgent than sinking her face in her pegasus' mane. It was soft, nice and comforting, not like she needed comfort, but still, that was great.

Her Pegasus' name was Gerwynn, and maybe saying it was hers was a lie, it belonged to the academy, but it was the one that had been assigned to her as soon as she had started taking flying classes and she adored him and knew she was currently the only one riding him. So she figured the Goddess would forgive her for silently thinking of him as hers. While his neighbour, Phandra, ignored her, Gerwynn made a happy noise when he saw her. She sighed with relief when she managed to bury her head in his neck. The whole world seemed kinder when you had your nose in a Pegasus' hair.

Soon enough, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Expecting a stable-maid, she raised her head, a promise about letting her do her job on her tongue.

She was instead greeted with Dorothea Arnault's face.

It was like her head froze and a hand had just plunged into her chest to squeeze her lungs. Trying to regain composure, she straightened up, feeling more awkward than ever before.

"Doro..."

"My darling Ingrid, are you alright? I saw you leave and you seemed upset, what is going on?"

The worry hurt. More than anything. Ingrid shook her head

"Nothing, don't worry about me please. I need to… I need to check on Felix, he’s still in the dorms, probably hiding from his father, and he’s going to miss class if he keeps going like that. I’m going to get him to move."

She made a move, leaving the stables, hurried and undignified. Dorothea yelped and her heels clicked on the ground. Ingrid walked faster, well aware that the beautiful diva was following her.

"Ingrid!" she yelled. "Wait, please!"

But she couldn't wait. Just seeing her smile, her face, her hat was reminding her of what she had witnessed just before, of the tender way their faces had been turned, of the familiar way their lips had met, showing neatly that it wasn't a one-time thing by far. And everytime she saw that, her heart broke more, realizing there was no space for her in there.

"Ingrid, darling!"

Dorothea had caught up to her, just outside of the training grounds. Ingrid had slowed down, unsure of where she was going. The dorms were too far to be sure she’d have time to escape, and the sauna had sounded like a nice idea before she had remembered that only her and her fellow Faerghus denizens seemed to think of it as a hellscape. Dorothea would have followed her there easily.

The young woman darted in front of her, face serious, fists against her hips. She looked a bit aggravated and of course she was, Ingrid really had lacked tact, hadn't she. Way to ruin whatever you still had with her, Ingrid, why did you have to ruin this? Especially when you know that everyone you love leaves you? First Glenn had died, then Felix had turned into a stranger, she barely recognized Sylvain anymore and Dimitri was always so distant and...

"Ingrid, darling, you look about to faint. Sit down, I'm begging you. You really don't look well. Oh no, no no don't cry please."

Ingrid blinked. The tears left her eyes and she shook her head.

"It's stupid, please forget it Dorothea..."

Dorothea didn't forget it, stepping closer. She tilted her head and brought her hand to Ingrid's chin.

"There, there. Now what could have made you so upset? You know I'd hunt down anyone who hurt you I hope."

But would she hunt down herself? Ingrid swallowed.

"No, please. It's nothing, I was just being stupid."

"Ingrid, if you're reduced to tears about it, it can't be stupid."

"I promise," she insisted, "it's just everything catching up to me. There's something bad happening over in Faerghus and I can't do anything about it, add that to the classes and the stress of exams, even something small seems like the end of the world."

Dorothea's eyes were severe, proof that she didn't believe her one second. Ingrid tried to hold her gaze for a minute, but she couldn't. More tears welled up in her eyes as, once again, she remembered Petra, sweet Petra, kissing her in front of the Blue Lions classroom, almost like a mockery. She lowered her gaze.

"I saw you and Petra kiss," she mumbled, "congratulations."

Dorothea's face morphed with emotions. Some unreadable, another she could definitely understand: sympathy. She hated it. She didn't need it. She opened her mouth.

Dorothea didn't give her time. Her hands grasped Ingrid's face as she smiled, exasperated amusement in her twinkling eyes.

"Ingrid, sweetheart, of course I kissed Petra. We've been together for more than a month. But surely you realized that we'd been trying to invite you in, haven't you?"

Invite her... in? Ingrid frowned, not understanding.

"What do you mean?"

"Nobles," Dorothea scoffed, "not teaching you the beauty of polyamory. Brigid might be more advanced than we are on that aspect."

"I don't understand," Ingrid said, trembling, "what are you talking about?"

With what seemed like an infinite amount of patience, Dorothea took her hands in hers, a serene smile on her face.

"What I mean is that when three girls love each other very much, why should any of them be sad when they can stay together, all three of them?"

Three?

Not a couple, but three people loving each other? Ingrid felt her head swim. What did she mean? She had never heard of such a thing before. Sure, some of the old kings and queens had a harem, but it seemed mostly a sexual thing rather than a love one? Or was she wrong?

"Is that... a thing?" she said awkwardly.

Ingrid laughed and leaned forward. The next instant, she was kissing her. Ingrid gasped in surprise, as some kind of lightning shock went through her body. It stayed chaste, and soft, and very much tentative, yet she was already breathless when Dorothea pulled away.

"It is very much a thing," the songstress told her with a laugh.

Ingrid felt the warmth on her cheeks and her hand found her braid, self-consciously. She swallowed, awkward. Dorothea smiled softly and let her go, and Ingrid didn't know if she was happy for the time she was giving her to compose herself or if she wanted her to touch her again.

"Are... are you sure? Is... Is Petra aware, does she..."

"Petra is still in front of the classroom," Dorothea said in a sing-song voice, "you can ask her herself. I’ll take care of Felix for you, since you were so worried."

Ingrid nodded, feeling the blush on her cheeks get warmer and warmer. She had forgotten all about Felix for a few seconds, to be honest.

"It... better not be a joke," she mumbled, turning away, "it would be a really cruel one..."

"I don't joke about these things, darling, I'll be with you two soon."

Ingrid could have sworn she didn't run to the classroom. Maybe she walked quickly, but she didn't run. When she saw Petra's anxious face, turning into relief when she saw her, she wondered why she hadn't run.

Turned out that indeed, Dorothea did not joke about these things.

***

**21st Day of the Wyvern Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

"I don't understand you," Ingrid groaned, "you were almost literally vibrating with excitement at the idea of participating when the year started. And now you won't participate because _Claude von Riegan_ asked you not to?"

Felix didn't raise his head, busy as he was sharpening his sword. It looked pristine as always, but despite all of Petra's lessons, Ingrid knew her sword maintenance knowledge was still subpar at best. She knew how to take care of lances, for sure, but swords only recently started to feel natural in her hand. Maintenance would have to wait. So she had no idea whether it really was as perfect as it looked.

"I have my reasons," he said simply.

"Right. I don't understand why you like him enough to deprive yourself of something you dearly wanted".

Felix snorted and she felt annoyance rise up in her nose. She looked back at the training weapon she was cleaning. They'd be using those for the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, they needed to be in perfect shape. But it was hard to focus when Felix, her battle-crazy friend, had just told her he wouldn't participate.

She also didn't understand his relationship with Claude von Riegan. The future leader of the Alliance was the incarnation of all the problems Ingrid and Felix had with Sylvain the way he was right now. For sure, without the familiarity, history and childhood friendship, there was no reason for Felix to like him so much he'd actually… She shook her head. It still didn't make sense.

"I'm not depriving myself of anything," Felix's tone was even, but she could hear the touch of warning in his voice, “whatever you’re thinking, that’s not it.”

"I just don't get it," Ingrid sighed, "there's no one you know there. Not even one swordsman except for professor Byleth, and while Raphael and Leonie enjoy training, it's not like they're as into it as you are. I just... don't understand why you seem to enjoy their company so much."

Much more than ours, she thought bitterly. From what she had seen the Golden Deer were mostly almost absurd in their normality. The Goneril girl was so lazy and vain there was no way Felix would enjoy spending time with her. Ans while she could understand him getting along with Leonie Pinelli, she couldn't see him have any patience for the Gloucester boy. Temperamental people like him and the von Ordelia girl were the kind who butted heads, and Ignatz and Marianne seemed so shy there was no way they wouldn't find him too scary to talk to. Also, Raphael Kirstein, sure he was nice, but it wasn't like they'd have anything to talk about. So she kept thinking about that damn Claude von Riegan, who had somehow charmed her difficult friend into respecting him and actually obeying his orders. How had he done it? It felt impossible.

Felix rolled his eyes without answering, admiring his work instead. He turned his blade to work on its other side.

"Seriously," Ingrid insisted, "I'm actually worried. You would never have let such an opportunity pass you by before, it's not like you. I don't understand why you let Claude push you around like that."

"I'm a big boy," Felix said, harsher, "I make my own decisions. Do not go thinking that I'm letting anyone do anything to me."

"Claude is manipulative," Ingrid pressed, "you do not have the mind to deceit, you wouldn't notice. He'd draw circles around you and lead you right where he wants while still making you believe you took your own decision."

Felix had the gall to snort as if she was the one being ridiculous. She put the lance down.

"Felix!"

The young man ignored her pointedly, focused on his work.

"I swear," Ingrid exclaimed, deeply annoyed, "at least Glenn would have listened to me."

It was the wrong thing to say. She knew it the moment it left her mouth, but there was no way around it. She watched anxiously as Felix froze and slowly, angrily, turned his gaze to her. The fury dancing inside his amber orbs was frightening in its intensity. She stiffened, feeling almost suffocated, and locked her jaw, choosing to accept her mistake, refusing to back down.

"Maybe," Felix hissed and it was biting, "I enjoy spending time with them because they're not reminding me every second about how they wish my dead brother were here instead of me."

It felt like a punch to the stomach and Ingrid stumbled back.

"Wha... Felix!"

"We're done here," he answered, standing up and leaving, almost stomping in his anger.

Ingrid made a move to follow him, maybe scream at him to take these hurtful words back. She stopped halfway, knowing that using Glenn's name like that was a sore matter and that she shouldn't have said it. She would have thought it, anyway, she had to admit, but she should have stilled her tongue. Comparing Felix to Glenn was always poking at a sleeping beast, she knew that and she shouldn't have said it. It was cruel of her. So his answer had been cruel back.

She was angry at him, but as she looked at him striding away, probably towards the training grounds to blow off some steam, she figured, reluctantly, that he had a point. Maybe that was indeed why he enjoyed the deers so much. None of them knew him before the academy, none of them met the adorable dreaming crybaby they all wanted to pull the cheeks off. None of them would miss him despite him being right next to them. None of them were associated with bad memories, she guessed, but she had thought their bond stronger than bad memories.

At the same time, wasn't that one of the reasons she loved Dorothea and Petra so much? There were no expectations from them, no deep knowledge of her family or sadness, not even the usual teasing she got about caring for food more than anything else. It was refreshing in a way.

She still didn't understand why he wouldn't participate in the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion but, with a sigh, she mentally promised she'd go apologize to him later and searched after her solace.

Petra was up in a tree near the monastery, as Ingrid expected. The young girl smiled at her before going down, jumping down in her arms. Ingrid squawked, catching her in time, but stumbling and falling on her backside.

"Are you being okay, Ingrid?" the princess asked with worry.

"Fine," Ingrid groaned, "but the saddle is going to hurt later."

"Oh. You have my apologies."

"Do not apologize," she laughed, "I think I needed that."

"You needed my jump into your arms?"

Yes. Because it made her feel light and sure of herself and everything her conversation with Felix hadn't been. She just smiled, pecking the beautiful princess on her cheek.

"I just had an argument with a friend, but I feel better already."

"Oh. Do you want me to be arguing with your friend?"

"Oh no, don't you worry. I think he was right anyway, I just didn't realize it at the time."

Probably because she deeply resented Claude von Riegan, she had to admit, frowning. She didn't really care for Edelgard von Hresvelg, but she was always so angry at everything Claude did that it felt like a personal insult that Felix respected him so much. Somehow, she felt she would have been less annoyed had Felix decided to find solace in the Black Eagles instead… She didn’t even understand it. What was it that she hated so much in that young man?

"You are being sad," Petra mumbled, nosing at her, "is there anything I am able to do?"

"Just stay here," she said softly, "I feel better with you here."

She figured she'd have to figure out what Felix liked so much about Claude. While his lack of seriousness was infuriating, especially for a future leader, he couldn't be all of that. He had to be more.

He had to.

The Battle of the Eagle and the Lion might be the moment to discover what it was…

***

**15th day of the Lone Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

She had declared war.

Ingrid felt numb as letters came and went, frantic, panicked. She was no stranger to war, she lived near enough Gautier that she knew of its terror and its awfulness. But this was on a full other scale.

The Empire had declared war to the Church. But not just the Church, the Church that she had devoted her faith to, the Church that was so important for all of Faerghus that she wasn't sure most people could live without it to help them endure the cold and the pain and the harsh conditions. No, the Emperor, the woman she barely knew but thought honorable, hadn't stopped at the Church. She had made it clear that she thought that Faerghus and Leicester were rightfully hers, that she’d _free them_ by getting rid of all they knew and loved and believed in. And anyone who opposed her or supported the Church was a goner too.

Ingrid couldn't understand that hatred. Not believing was a thing. Hating those who believed so much you'd eradicate them was another. Deciding that two countries had been created by a separate entity (which was so wrong on so many aspects! Did the princess of Adrestia really not know _how_ the Kingdom had separated from the Empire?) and thus weren’t legitimate and should be conquered was on a whole new level of madness and self-entitlement.

As she laid down her head on Dorothea's laps, she couldn't comprehend what was happening. It was too much.

"Our little Edie," Dorothea sighed, "I have no idea what happened."

"She'd get rid of any believer," Ingrid mumbled, "and she says that it's already what the church does to non-believers. But that's... that's not true! That's just not true, I mean, Petra..."

Petra, who wasn't even from Fódlan, was as non-believer as it came. Shamir, who was from Dagda, was a knight who didn’t believe. Even little Cyril who came from Almyra was welcomed and protected by the Church. The Archbishop, the authority Edelgard had challenged and accused of corruption and religious cleansing, had non-believers and parias as her closest confidants. Lady Rhea had chosen them through merit instead of bloodlines, like a particularly elegant way of mocking all these so-called faithful nobles who only saw blood and lineage. There was not one word of truth in all that had been said during that whole manifesto, surely the Emperor must have known it?

Petra placed a hand on her shoulder, eyes looking lost.

"I do not have the knowledge of if Edelgard is believing the words she has spoken. Maybe... she talks so people become angry."

"That's even worse," Ingrid mumbled.

Dorothea pet her hair, sad.

"Ingrid, darling..."

"You're going to her."

Dorothea sobbed briefly.

"Petra has no choice," she pleaded.

"There are threateners who have come to Brigid," Petra said, playing nervously with her braid, "they have been sent by Hubert. If I am not listening to them, Brigid..."

"I understand," Ingrid said numbly, "but Dorothea, why are you..."

Dorothea sobbed again and Ingrid felt her heart break. She was angry. Furious even, but not at them. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't a fair choice, it never was.

"Petra is going to be alone," Dorothea mumbled, "she's a hostage in enemy territory, she'll be forced to do things she won't want to. I... I can't leave her alone. I love you oh so much darling and I wish I could go with you. But..."

But Ingrid wouldn't be alone. She'd have Sylvain, and her father, and His Highness, and maybe she'd even have Felix. She'd be stuck on the opposite side of the two girls she loved. She might have to fight them. But she wouldn't be alone.

A sob shook her body. She couldn't stay here. She stood up.

"Ing..."

"Please let me leave."

She didn't turn but didn't need to, knowing how her girlfriends... well, she guessed they weren't really anymore, must have stiffened. She knew her voice was cold. She wiped her eyes harshly. How many tears had she shed on these two girls. Not enough that the happiness hadn't been worth it, she had to admit. And she knew it wasn't their fault. But she felt betrayed and angry and hurt. And she just needed to leave.

"Please," she whispered softly, "let me leave. Don't make this harder."

She heard someone standing up. But she rushed away. Silly, silly Ingrid, she thought desperately, what else did you expect?

Everyone always leaves you anyway. Why did you think this time would be different?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Woops. Well anyway, that's the current situation. *Coughs* My apologies for the downer ending. I PROMISE these girls will have a happy ending. It will just... take a long time aha ;;  
> I think it was when I was writing this chapter that I figured I should really explain how Golden Deer Felix came to be x) So you can expect a flashback chapter about that sooner rather than later! But not next time, since we'll go back to the present!


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judai learns what's going to happen to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in two days? Damn! More seriously, do not expect me to keep that pace x) I'm currently working on the chapters I've basically started with when I wrote this (writing chapters in the right order? In _this_ economy??) so I'm currently going pretty fast and my point of view (at least until I'm in the last straight line before the end) is 'you finish one chapter, you publish one chapter' so here we are x)  
> Anyway, remember how at the very beginning of the story I said one of the main reasons I had to write it was that I wanted to have some conversations between Judai and Dimitri? Well there's one here x) That's why I kept it despite it being completely removed from the two parts that actually advance the plot xD (I love fanfiction, I can't do that in a novel...)

**Chapter 5**

_And I can't live in a fairytale of lies_

_And I can't hide from the feeling cause it's right_

_And I go faster and faster and faster and faster for life_

_And I can't live in a fairytale of lies_

**23rd Day of the Ethereal Moon, Imperial Year 1185**

**Judai**

Ingrid's severe glare seemed to be skewering him from behind. Judai gulped, doing his best not to look at her. As a guard, Sylvain might have been distrustful and cold with his smiles, but at least he wasn't a silent glare and a few imperious orders. He kind of missed it. That and Mercedes' kindness. But clearly, lady Ingrid of Galatea thought they had been too nice to him. While she hadn't reacted with anything but shock and then sobbing joy at learning of Dimitri's survival and presence, the moment Mercedes had mentioned the tomb and Juda's ignorance, she had gotten angry. Accused him of lying and telling him how he would do better to watch his mouth rather than believe himself above humans.

She was looking at him with suspicion, as if the moment she stopped watching him he'd reveal himself as a traitorous snake. Judai didn't dare tell her to talk to Sylvain if she had doubts, staying as silent as she was. In his head, Yubel was humming an old song from their childhood, a small twinge of comfort. They had stopped laughing at his misery only a few minutes ago, jerk that they were.

"Where are we going?" he dared mumbling.

The castle corridors weren't exactly big or labyrinthic, but Judai had always had a sincerely terrible sense of direction. Yubel helped him a lot on that matter, fortunately. He remembered how many times he and Johan got lost. His best friend was almost worse than him on that matter and oh, by the Gods he missed Johan.

"Lord Fraldarius will see you," Ingrid answered severely.

"Okay, thank you." he answered quickly, not wishing to anger her.

The door she pulled led to an office, a small, practical yet tasteful room. There was a woman inside, dressed all in white and deep green, hair brushed back. She was pouring tea, humming a beautiful melody. Ingrid cleared her throat.

"Professor Manuela," she said, "will you be fine with him while you wait for Lord Fraldarius, or do you want me to stay here?"

The woman turned before laughing, amusement sincere and sweet in her voice. She looked around forty and wore heavy make-up, her smile was flirty, but her eyes looked kind.

"Ingrid, please. I am no helpless damsel. Do not worry about me, I can be a good hostess to our young guest."

Ingrid frowned, obviously not convinced or not enjoying the term 'guest'.

"We have no idea who he is," she growled, "please do be careful."

He could have sworn that 'professor Manuela' rolled her eyes.

"We'll just be drinking tea, Ingrid. I think you should be more worried about whether or not I risk poisoning him."

"You're a pretty good cook, professor, and you know it" Ingrid smiled for the first time since Judai had met her, "don’t be so dramatic. You just... enjoy alcohol much more than we tend to. So we have a hard time when you use it for your delicacies."

"And that’s how I end up being called a poisoner. You nobles I swear," she answered with fond annoyance, "I thought the proper aspect was just play pretend. And instead here you have converted me to a no-alcohol lifestyle? In war times? What has this world come to?"

Judai had never been big on alcohol and was pretty glad to know that the tea wouldn't have been spiked by anything of the kind. He tried a small smile at the professor as she was kindly but firmly pushing Ingrid out. The blonde Pegasus knight was asserting that she'd be just outside and please scream at the first issue, I know lord Rodrigue won't be far, but just call and I'll stab this little... well that was an original insult, he didn't know something so polite could be so aggressive too. When finally professor Manuela closed the door, she was shaking with laughter.

"That girl is too worried," she told him, "look at you, a small, bony thing. You wouldn't hurt a fly."

" _She'd be surprised_ ," Yubel said happily.

" _Hush you_ ," Judai answered with annoyance.

Better to be underestimated than feared.

"Sit down, sit down," the woman said, gesturing to the comfortable seats of the office, "let me entertain you before our dear lord stops fawning over his liege to see you. Now tell me everything. I hear you were sleeping in a tomb when you woke up?"

"When your prince woke me up, yes," Judai answered sincerely.

"Not my prince, honey. I don't follow any other law other than my faith in the Goddess in these times."

Judai tilted his head, confused.

"Is the Church more influential than the King, here?"

"Oh not really, no. But as a former citizen of the Empire, I don't really have a status for the moment? Hopefully, a future marriage will change that, but let’s keep these boring discussions for later. As a fervent devout, I have to ask, could you describe the tomb you were in?"

The tomb. It was hard to remember. He had been dizzy at the time, and then Dimitri had dragged him out of it, into the cave where he had wanted to spend the night, waiting for the end of the storm outside. Judai described a few pillars, the stony ground his feet had clicked on. And then the throne, jade and onyx Yubel had said. With the Supreme King's coat of arms on it, though he didn't say that name, knowing it wouldn't ring any bell.

Manuela was sipping the tea, eyes showing that she was listening without judgement. When she put down her cup, she smiled softly.

"What you just described sounds a lot like the Goddess' holy tomb."

"So I heard. I've been called a heretic once for that already."

Manuela laughed easily, her voice light of worry.

"Ingrid is too worried. Has been for a few years, ever since the... Well, it doesn't matter for now. Not many people know what the Holy Tomb looks like, in truth. Some people in the Alliance fought the Empire there, at the beginning of the war. The only reason we know about it is because one of ours was with them and described it to us."

"Oh."

That explained probably why the description sounded so worrying for Ingrid. If no one in the Kingdom, other than those here, knew about the tomb, then of course him knowing made him look suspicious.

"But Dimitri can confirm he found me in such a place."

Manuela nodded, eyes downcast for a second, likely thinking about Dimitri's present state.

"Yes he did. As confused as he is right now, he confirmed your version of the events, according to Sylvain. The boy also told us that you really seem to ignore everything about the current world."

"Well, not everything," Judai said hopefully, "unless what he told me was a pack of lies, I have a bit of History in my knowledge bank, now?"

"Good boy," Manuela laughed again, "you don't have a deceiving bone in your body, do you?"

Judai winced. Oh. How wrong she was on that aspect.

"Well... I'm not sure about that," he admitted with a sigh.

She gave him a knowing look before turning to the door the moment there was a knock.

"Come in!"

The lord from before entered. Rodrigue, they had called him, or Duke Fraldarius. Felix's Father. He had tied up his wavy hair messily and had changed into lighter clothes than what he was wearing outside.

"Manuela," he greeted them with a calm yet joyful tone, "and I've heard your name was Judai?"

Judai bowed, wondering how exactly he was supposed to call him. Somehow he doubted 'Mister Duke' would be appropriate.

"Hello Your Grace," Manuela said with a wink, saving Judai's life at the same time, "I've already questioned him, it's all real."

"I do not doubt it," the man said, voice soft, "and even if it wasn't the case, he brought our prince back to us. He is an esteemed guest at the very least."

He turned to Judai, his smile small and sweet, his eyes misty.

"It is an honour to have a person such as you here, in Fraldarius. Rooms will be prepared for you, do not hesitate to ask if we can do anything."

Judai blinked, not knowing how to react.

"Huh... Sure? Thanks, that's very kind of you?"

"Please finish your tea, dear!" Manuela insisted with a laugh. "You're welcome here. I'll make sure to have a word with Ingrid."

"... Don't be severe?"

"I know, I know she means well, don't worry. I'll just ask her not to glare too hard at you."

Rodrigue Fraldarius chuckled at that, like one would for a dear friend whose flaws were only part of their charm by this point. Him and Manuela started a small conversation about places that needed food distribution and which part of their crops they could reallocate. Judai finished his tea slowly, trying to understand what had happened and why, suddenly, the most important person here and one of his... advisors? showed him none of the distrust and suspicion everyone had given him, probably rightfully, up to this point.

" _Judai,_ " Yubel mumbled in his ear, " _Think for a second. With all you've told them and what we know, what would their logical conclusion be?_ "

" _What do you mean?_ "

" _Isn't it obvious? You were in a tomb, similar to one belonging to their Goddess. Of course they realized you might be a god too!_ "

*

The Temple was a pretty simple thing, as far as Holy places went. The stained glass was beautiful, of course, but there were as few precious materials as possible in its conception. Even the altar in front of which Dimitri was standing was made of simple stone and wood, though it was artfully carved. All in all, it was like everything he had seen of Fraldarius until then: frugal, not interested in showing off, but beautiful and refined through technique rather than wealth.

Judai sat behind the prince, still amazed by the last days and by the simple fact that he had been left to wander alone. They thought him a god, Yubel had said. And in some way they were right. Judai just wasn't sure they'd be as happy if they knew what kind of god he could be.

"So you're a prince," he said.

Dimitri ignored him.

"You're a prince," Judai repeated, "yet you've been wandering about in the wild for years instead of going back to your closest allies. From what I've heard, His Grace almost was a father figure to you for a good portion of your life. Lucky you, he seems nice."

Much nicer than Judai's own parents had been, he couldn't help but think, and how many adults had he gripped the sleeve of, silently, unconsciously begging them to take him in, only for them to at best screw up trying and at worst use him? Dimitri still didn't react. 

"The people here need you," he mumbled, "I wonder why abandoning them seemed like your best choice at the time."

Did you mess up like I did, he wondered, did you think you'd end up in the state you're in anyway, that you weren't fit to rule? Were you scared or helping them? Or were you already lost to your ghosts, unable not to listen?

"What are you doing here?" Dimitri's harsh voice finally answered.

Judai smiled. Not all gone then.

"I was just wondering, I guess. I wanted to see a place dedicated to Sothis. And I wanted to see you in light of all I've learnt."

Dimitri grunted without turning.

"Didn't your ghosts tell you it's rude to ignore someone?"

Dimitri didn't have to answer for Judai to know the answer. Rudeness and everything, none of this reached him, for his ghosts claimed all his attention and it was everything else that felt unreal. He knew it. Had lived through it. He felt more pity than frustration, really. Poor guy...

"I wonder," he mumbled, "if the reason you never went back was because the gods wanted you to wake me..."

No answer.

"Hey, Mr Corpse... Dimitri... Do you think I am a god?"

Dimitri huffed, a sound full of disdain.

"I don't know what you are. Either the Goddess sent you to me to help me with my revenge, or you're useless to me."

Judai felt his lips turn into a painful smile.

"Fair enough," he mumbled, standing up and leaving, "fair enough."

*

**27th Day of the Ethereal Moon, Imperial Year 1185**

Judai was woken up by the chilling sound of Yubel screaming.

It was like a spark of alarm through his chest, making him jump on his feet immediately, looking for an attack, an enemy, anything that could actually make Yubel afraid or in pain and that he would _destroy_ for daring...

His mind cleared a bit, the fog of sleep leaving it. The screams had turned into terrified sobs, deep inside himself, and Judai let himself collapse back on the bed, not knowing if he felt more relieved or miserable.

"Yubel," he mumbled soothingly, "it's alright. Everything's alright. We're fine."

That warm place inside his soul reached out tentatively, like fragile tendril-like arms holding him. There was some kind of shuddering breath, and then Yubel appeared in front of him, looking sheepish and exhausted. They floated in the air, wings sprawled in some kind of protective gesture.

"Hey," they mumbled, "sorry for ruining your night."

"We talked about nightmares," he answered disapprovingly, "don't apologize. I wake you up far more often than you do."

"Yeah," they sighed, laying down at his side, and he could almost feel them despite them not being a physical creature right now, "but how many years ago was the last time we’ve had a bed? Centuries? I didn't want to ruin it like that."

Well, they had been in castle Fraldarius three days already, so technically it had been just yesterday but he knew what they meant. There was a knot in Judai's throat as he nodded. Centuries at least. They weren't sure how many, but from what Sylvain had told them...

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked.

Yubel shrugged, their wings moving wildly with the gesture, going through the bed without touching it.

"Same as usual. The Light. It burns. It hurts. And I'm losing my mind, and I'm hurting you. Nothing I haven't dreamt about a thousand times before."

Memories more than dreams, the kind that haunted you for life. Torture of the worst kind. It usually didn't happen much in moons as cold as that one, but there was no telling when the nightmares would be rearing their ugly face again. Judai put his hand on theirs, as if he could touch it. Still no shadows around, no matter how much he searched and called and seeked.

"The Light is gone."

"We don't know that for sure. We don't know how long we've been sleeping, just that it’s been incredibly long. It could be back."

They were right, as always, but Judai couldn't think about that. Not while he was so weak he couldn't even hug Yubel and feel their powerful arms holding him.

"We can still hope," he sighed, "I haven't seen a trace of it for now. If it's still around here, it's been hiding itself. Or else, Dimitri would have been a prime target."

Yubel hummed, eyes closing.

"I'll admit, the first time that red-haired kid mentioned crests, I thought it was a way for the Light to mark its hosts. But from what we know, it's been transmitted by bloodlines and it doesn't say anything about its owner's temperament, so I doubt it."

Crests. Sylvain had mentioned them, indeed. Holy powers you were born with, granting you abilities beyond humanity's limitations. He had explained a few of them as examples, vaguely, and Judai was so overwhelmed he hadn't questioned much. But now that he thought about it, these powers sounded familiar. Far too familiar.

He rose up sharply. Yubel opened their eyes, all three of them, staring at him. They were in his soul, in his mind. They knew exactly what he was thinking and with how furrowed their brow was, they didn't like it.

"Crests," Judai mumbled, "he was talking about crests and them being Sothis' blessing or something. But I have no idea what it could be about."

"I do," Yubel hummed in his head, "Sothis had that power remember? The power of the World. It healed her when she fought. I think that's what they call crests."

"But it's something only Nabateans could use. Do you think they learnt how to pass it on to humans?"

"Probably. But I think the more important question is why they thought it was necessary to pass them on to humans."

"What do you mean?"

Yubel twirled in the air, sitting on a bed they couldn't touch. Their mismatched eyes shone with judgement. They knew very well he knew the answer, he just didn't want to admit it. Denial, denial, a flaw he wasn’t ready to get rid of...

"What kind of tragedy happened that made it so the Nabateans weren't enough to fight it back?"

Judai swallowed, closing his eyes in pain. The more he learnt about History, the more he was afraid for what his friends had to fight while he was gone.

"I know I said it was gone but… do you think the Light came back, after all?"

"Love," Yubel answered in a reversal of their earlier positions, “if the Light came back, with all of its strength, that world would be gone. You know it."

Not the Light, then. But something almost as awful. Something that forced the guardians of this world to search for help in humanity.

But how many of them transmitted these "crests", then?

He stood up.

"Where are you going?"

"Someone needs to catch me up on crests. I need to know what they are. The families that bear them. None of the names they've mentioned yet seemed familiar. Maybe they have nothing to do with Nabateans in the end. And it's just a similarity."

"Judai..."

"No, Yubel."

"Judai, lying to yourself has never brought anything good."

"I'm not... lying. I just need to know for sure."

And it was true. He couldn't be sure until he knew all he could about the things that were now the mark of nobility. A spirit squeaked in his ear, telling him that yes, despite it being the middle of the night, there was someone up. Two people in fact, but one was Dimitri, sitting in the temple dedicated to the Goddess, ignoring everything but his ghosts. The other was in the training grounds.

This slowed Judai down. He hadn't been there for long, but he already had an inkling who would be there in the middle of the night.

Indeed, he found the Fraldarius boy there, ripping apart hastily made targets with a rage that was tinted with desperation. He had only come there recently, another spirit was mumbling to him, he had been watching over Dimitri. And then he left, tried to calm down, focus, with archery. It hadn't lasted long. The need to lash out was too strong.

Judai figured they should feel happy he decided to lash out on inanimate objects.

So he watched, as the elegant dance of Felix's blade destroyed his targets with a harshness that was barely tempered by technique, as if he just wanted to destroy, forgetting about his precious lessons, wishing to hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, and not caring how much he broke himself in the process.

Judai let him act out. There was nothing he could do that wouldn't end up hurting both of them. So he let him tire himself out, until whatever he had been hacking at was unrecognizable, until he was leaning against it, catching desperate breaths, looking as if he wanted to do more but his body wouldn't follow.

Then only, Judai cleared his throat.

The wild eyes that turned towards him were almost fearful in their anger. Judai tried a tentative smile to hide his instinctual flinch.

"Hey, sorry to bother you! But I think I need more History lessons."

There was a _look_ sent to him that asked him what he was doing at such an hour, but training in the night wasn’t much better than nightly lessons, so the question went unasked.

"I'm not a damn teacher," Felix growled instead.

He was so winded, it somehow sounded even harsher than he probably intended.

"Oh, don't worry! It's nothing big, Sylvain gave me most of what I needed. There's just one thing that has left me confused."

Felix didn't seem to listen to him, more concerned with looking behind him, frowning when he saw no one.

"Why are you alone?"

"Why shouldn't I be alone?"

Felix scowled.

"Unbelievable," he muttered.

"The fact that they somehow trust me more than you? I agree. But hey, there's no one watching over us right now! Don't worry, I won't take much of your time."

He could see the fury, tensing up his body. It was fascinating in a way, how this seemed to be the only way he let feelings affect him. Fascinating and terribly sad.

"What do you need," he ended up spitting more like an order than a question.

"Crests. Sylvain spoke of them, Mercedes said they're Sothis' blessing to determine the lineages that are allowed to rule Fodlan."

Which sounded like bullshit when one knew Sothis, but with all that had changed, he couldn't know for sure without learning the full story.

"I just wondered what they were, exactly, and how you know when someone has one? Is it a birthmark or something?"

Felix's expression was dumbfounded. And yet it relaxed sooner than it had done for most people confronted to Judai’s ignorance until then.

"You really know nothing." he muttered. A sigh. "Fine, then. I'm no expert, but there are around twenty crests. Some have gone missing with time, but somehow, they always manage to come back." He shrugged, not looking very concerned about it. "They're transmitted through bloodlines, most noble families who have them use them to choose their heirs."

"I see. And how do you know when someone has one?"

There was a shadow on Felix's face. He turned back towards his destroyed target. His training weapon, thoroughly beaten down, was raised slowly. And then, there was a light, shining, forming a symbol Judai knew well, briefly.

The wooden sword cut through the wooden target as if it had been a load of butter, with no resistance. The top of it went flying and hit the ground heavily. Felix lowered his sword.

"That's how you know," he said simply.

Judai felt sick.

He knew that symbol. He knew that power. He could feel it in bones.

" **Lying to yourself has never brought anything good** ," Yubel had said. They were right as always.

The gift to slice or pierce anything, an overwhelming attack power that he had faced many times, each more exhilarating than the last. He remembered it well, it and the fearsome dragon who used it. A wonderful being, who had always seemed invincible.

" _Judai_ ," Yubel hissed in his ear, worried.

He blinked, trying to go back to the present. He couldn't collapse here. Grief was shaking him. It wasn't the right time. Maybe he was still there. Maybe he was...

Felix was looking at him. His eyes were shining like sunset and Judai swallowed.

"You know something about it."

It was all Felix said. It wasn’t even a question. The fight that had been moving him until then seemed to have disappeared. Judai tried to inhale, decided it didn't sound like a sob enough to be embarrassed, and nodded. Felix just nodded back.

Breathe, Judai, breathe.

"So... you have a crest."

"Major crest of Fraldarius," he answered as if he was reciting an annoying school lesson, "one of the last known major crests in the world apparently. Sylvain has the minor crest of Gautier, Ingrid minor crest of Daphnel, the Boar has the minor crest of Blaidydd..."

Still no familiar name. As if he had somehow felt what Judai was thinking, he crossed his arms.

"Most of the Kingdom's crests belonged to the ten Elites. It's the same for the Alliance. But there are also crests that belonged to the saints that come from the Empire. And then there’s the apostles."

Judai tilted his ear. Was that fondness in his voice when he mentioned apostles? He could not have dreamt it, right?

"It's pretty ironic that the Empire is the one who possesses the power of the saints," Judai noticed, "when they're the ones currently trying to destroy the religion they pioneered."

"Not all of the Empire's crest bearers agree with the Emperor," Felix added, "I know that Von Aegir ran to the Alliance years ago. Some informants told us that Hevring did the same, more recently. They have the crests of Cichol and Cethleann."

A punch in the chest.

Oh.

The first name he recognized in all of that mess. So like his sister Seiros, Cichol was seen as a Saint?

He remembered Cichol. A kind being, if strict. The kind who used to tell him and Johan to stop running in the hallways, that they'd hurt themselves. Rumbling voice, full of awkwardness, soft around the edges. How many times had they called him "dad" jokingly?

Cethleann, though, he didn't know.

Was Cichol still around?

Was Seiros?

Was the friend whose presence and strength had briefly shone through Felix?

Hope felt both like a curse and the only thing he could hang onto. If the crests of the saints, at least, bore the names of those they originated from, it meant all was not lost. He had to believe it.

"And the apostles?" He tried.

"Supposed to be lost to time. Until somehow five years ago all four of their bearers turned up at Garreg Mach."

Garreg Mach once again. With all the times he had heard that name, Judai was starting to feel like he really needed to get there someday.

"All four had the major one too. Aubin, Chevalier, Noa and Timotheos."

The world tilted. Judai's eyes widened.

"Excuse me?"

Felix raised an eyebrow but did not repeat. In a way, he didn't need to. He had no reason to lie. He couldn't know, he just couldn't… Did Jim never publish his book? This could not be a coincidence, Judai refused to believe so.

"You know," Felix said, lacking his usual aggressivity, "some people here could see you acting like that as heresy."

Yeah, sure, he'd already gotten the speech. Hard to forget how Ingrid had seemed about to impale him, which would have ended up pretty badly for her.

"Not you, though."

"I'm not much of a believer."

"Really? You're a noble of the Holy Kingdom and you do not believe?"

"I think the Goddess does exist. I'm also pretty sure that she doesn’t agree with how many people act in her name."

"How so?"

Felix stared at him, as if wondering what he could reveal to him and what he couldn't. In the end, he just turned back to the target, getting it down to the ground.

"Your Grace?"

"Don't." His harsh voice answered. "That's my father."

"Felix, then?"

There was no answer, once again. Felix put the broken target amongst other broken things that probably needed to be carried for repairs. He stayed there a few minutes, pondering.

"You should go to the Alliance," he ended up saying, "you'd get a lot more answers than here. And less risks of getting yelled at for heresy."

Judai chose not to tell him it had already happened. Instead he smiled.

"Noted. But I won't."

For the same reason you won't, he added mentally. Three days since they had found him, and Felix barely left Dimitri's side. For all the anger and frustration the man showed at his prince, it was obvious hate wasn’t the only feeling left, there.

Felix stared at him once again, fury briefly on his face. And then, he seemed to make a decision.

"To answer your question... many bishops have chosen to interpret the scriptures some ways and now treat these interpretations as facts," he said as if it was the smelliest load of bullshit he'd ever heard of, and to be fair, it probably was, "Yet, iff any of their interpretations were true, then Claude… he wouldn't have a crest. And if that is false, then many other things we’re taught deserve questioning."

His stare turned dark, cold, as if realizing he had said something he shouldn’t have.

"But that," he added more quietly, "is something you'd better keep to yourself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh. I wonder how many will be able to guess who is behind the Fraldarius crest with what little I've put in here x)  
> Also I don't know if it's obvious yet but I live for the relationship between Felix and Dimitri. I don't exactly ship them romantically, but their relationship is so complex and full of love and hurt and chaotic feelings that go everywhere at once, I just love it. These two are the only thing that managed to make me cry while playing the game, actually xD They're my favourite relationship in all FE, even above my actual ships!  
> Anyway, as promised, next chapter will be a Felix flashback chapter explaining how he ended up going to the Golden Deer (the most astutes here will have noticed that he didn't go to the promised meeting in Garreg Mach. There are reasons for that, I swear!) and I can already tell you that it's going to be soooo long xD Like, for now, I think that's the second longest chapter I've written in that story and the longest is... still a long way to come from now.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix meets interesting people and has to make important choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! I think I might have already mentioned it, but Felix and Claude (and a surprise third) are my favourite characters in the game and I have been dying to see them interact. Aaaand they don't. Which makes me very sad.  
> So you can be sure they're going to have the Bromance of a lifetime because that's my kind of spite <3  
> Now, about that small first part of the chapter, I don't remember seing anything about Glenn never attending Garreg Mach so I decided why not, it's my story after all. Also, Lixie! Just so you know, I'm French. And the French name for the pokemon Shinx (so, you know, cute electrical kitty) is 'Lixy' which I always thought sounded too cute for words. It just seemed appropriate as a nickname for Felix x)  
> BTW I... can't write battle scenes aha ;;; So Sorry, I hope they'll get better with time!

**Chapter 6**

_Oh friend of mine,_

_I'll wait for you to see_

_Don't you try to hide_

_You know you're better off with me._

_Glenn was putting on his boots when he heard the very small noise. At first, he kept going, a small smile on his lips, doing his best not to betray what he knew. As he reached for his second boot, he made a big show of looking at it, only to notice the laces were gone._

_"Well well," he started in a loud voice, "looks like some rat took my laces."_

_Yes, there definitely was a muffled giggle behind the curtain, where he had heard the small noise before._

_"Now," he kept going with a mock serious tone, "I wonder where that little rat could have gone?"_

_The giggling got louder, though still muffled. Once again, Glenn made a big show of searching under the bed, then inside the wardrobe, and even around the small desk underneath the bookshelves._

_"I can't find it," he said in a sing-song voice, "now where else could such a big little rat go hide itself? Oh? What about the curtain? Could it get up here?"_

_The giggles got more muffled, but still far too easy to hear. So Glenn walked slowly, heavily, towards the curtains, hoping to sound as menacing as possible._

_Before he had the time to open it, a small head peeked from behind it with a mischievous smile. Small Felix was looking half sheepish and half facetious as he fake-glared at his older brother._

_"You knew I was here," he almost accused, "you knew from the beginning."_

_"Oh, so the big rat can talk?" Glenn added gleefully. "It's a little too big to hide on a windowsill, now, isn't it?"_

_Felix's answer was to stick his tongue at him. As any big brother would do in such a situation, Glenn caught his adorable little sibling in a headlock and started rubbing his knuckles on his head. Felix squeaked and whined in discomfort._

_"Ow ow ow, stop! Glenn, stooop!"_

_"Now, you big mean rat, where did you hide my bootlaces?"_

_Pushing his brother's hands away from him, Felix pouted._

_"I ate them," he retorted._

_"Do not use my own answers against me."_

_"You're a jerk."_

_"No, I'm your awesome big brother who you love a whole lot. Now where have you hidden them? You know I need to get ready to leave."_

_Felix's face fell a second and even though his expression quickly turned defiant again, it had not escaped his brother's attention._

_"Come on, Lixie," Glenn sighed, "we've already had that discussion."_

_"I just don't understand why I can't come," Felix grumbled, getting down from the windowsill, "it's not as if it was dangerous."_

_Glenn hummed, shoving his hand inside his brother's pocket. Despite Felix's yelp of outrage, he retrieved the laces he was looking for. Felix watched him tie up his second boot, eyes forlorn, desperately trying not to pout again._

_"It's not as if you're going to be alone while Dimitri and I are away," Glenn said with one of his knowing smiles, "I heard that Sylvain was going to visit. Ingrid too, maybe?"_

_"Ingrid won't come if you're not here," Felix grumbled, "and can't you leave tomorrow instead? I've barely seen you recently, since you've gone to the academy..."_

_"Hey, I won't go to Garreg Mach forever," Glenn laughed, standing and patting his little brother on the head, "it's only one year and half of it is already gone. The trip to Duscur won't be long either, I have to be back to the academy before the end of the month after all, we have a class assignment to do, and I'm the class representative."_

_Felix wrinkled his nose, his small face already quivering a little._

_"Hey," Glenn mumbled, holding him, "don't cry. It's just a few days. You know if you cry too much, your whole face is going to shrivel, like a bad fruit. And that would be sad. Can you believe you'd be the ugly one in the family? How awful."_

_"You're a jerk", Felix repeated, hitting him lightly with his fist._

_"Nope, I'm your awesome big brother and you know you love me."_

_"I miss you."_

_The words were almost painful in how genuine they were. Felix felt Glenn lean down and smile in his hair._

_"It won't be too long, Lixie, I promise. With Sylvain here, it will feel like the blink of an eye. Now, remind me what you need to do?"_

_"If Miklan is here," Felix answered dutifully, "I must never stay alone with him."_

_"Good," Glenn patted his back, "and don't worry, I'll be back soon and I'll bring your best friend back with me."_

_"Can I come with you next time?"_

_Glenn laughed._

_"It's not up to me, but you know what? I'll take you to the academy with me when I come back. There's someone back there that I want you to meet."_

_Felix perked up, a smile lighting up on his face and eyes._

_"Promise?"_

_"Promise!"_

Felix woke up and blinked owlishly as the sun washed over his eyes, raising him to awareness. He turned, looking at the window where he could see the dawn, rising above Garreg Mach. It was morning.

"Liar," he mumbled bitterly.

**9th Day of the Verdant Rain Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

**Felix**

Morning training was a habit of his he had started years ago, it had been spite that had motivated him back then because surely, if he trained more than his brother, he'd get stronger than him. So he rose with the dawn, grumbling and hating himself for his amazing ideas, and went to train far before their intendant, Mariette, would find him and force him to get breakfast and a bath. He had kept the habit even after Duscur and Glenn's death, he had never let up, even conscious that he was chasing a ghost, that his base reason for wanting to get stronger was missing, but still training because what else was he supposed to do, really? He had learnt how to swing a sword before he had learnt how to write his name, hadn't he...

So Felix trained on the mornings, when there was no one except one or two knights, maybe professor Jeritza, on the training grounds and where he could go through the motions and shake the sleep out of his bones through steel or wood. Training, sparring, up until the sun was higher and it was time to prepare to go to class.

He had just left his room after changing clothes (training had ripped a hole in his uniform, so going to classes like that apparently wasn't an option) when he heard a voice he knew.

A voice belonging to someone he didn't know would be there and really didn't want to talk to. There was no time to sprint back to his room, as far away as he was. Instinctively, without thinking, he rushed into the closest room and closed the door immediately. The girl inside - pink hair was all he had time to notice - shrieked and he slammed a hand over her mouth. He mentally cursed himself for his panic, that wasn't like him at all.

"Quiet!" he hissed at the girl.

Despite the surprise, she didn't seem scared at all, which was already a good point. He didn't care about scaring people, but scaring someone after breaking into their room? Not his type. He wasn't that kind of person, thank you.

Forgetting one second about the girl, he listened. The voice was speaking, coming closer. It passed the door without slowing down.

"You know," the girl mumbled against his palm, "you can take off your hand, I won't scream."

If anyone asked him, he did not take off his hand because she told him to or because he was ashamed.

"Quiet," he muttered once again, "they're coming back!"

The girl stayed quiet, though her eyes were sparkling with amusement and, he really hoped he was wrong, mischief. He could swear there was a scheme slowly making its way through her gaze as he heard the boar prince, coming back.

"He must have already left," he was saying to Felix's father, "maybe to the dining hall. You'll see him later."

"Probably." answered Rodrigue Achilles Fraldarius with a voice that showed he knew that his son would avoid him as soon as said son knew he was here. "But there are more urgent matters to discuss. Let's make haste."

Felix didn't know why his father was here. He was curious, he'd have to admit, but he didn't want to ask him. Or Dimitri. He was pretty sure it had nothing to do with him in particular (as if his father would come this far to see him after all), so it shouldn't be too hard to figure it out.

"So," the girl said, "I think you owe me something."

He turned, feeling familiar anger churning inside his gut.

"Excuse me."

She smiled. Hilda Valentine Goneril, he recognized her. Golden Deer, lazy and more interested in gossip than fighting. He had never really talked with her. As far as first meetings went, he had the feeling he was going to despise her.

"Do not look at me like that," she giggled, "I'm not the one who rushed into your room without warning and forced you to stay silent just so you could hide from... was it Dimitri you were trying to avoid?"

Maybe a bit. The other person a lot more. He simply glowered at her.

"I wasn't hiding." he growled.

Somehow, she wasn't intimidated. And he wasn't fooling anyone.

"Aw, come on. I'm not going to drive too hard a bargain. I can understand wanting to hide from someone! So let's make a deal."

He looked at her suspiciously.

"That's simple," she whined, "as long as you use that room to hide in, I can go into YOUR room to hide in when I need to."

"I wasn't hiding," he said again.

"I can still run after these men and tell them where you are, then."

He was going to kill her. She was smiling. He hated her so much. Who would she have to hide from, even? The teacher, if she was avoiding chores? Probably. He really didn't want to encourage her like this.

"Fine." he spat. "But only once."

"Deal!" she answered joyously. "Now, I remember Leonie saying she'd love to spar with you one of these days, why don't you try to find her so you can work out the details yourselves, you workaholics?"

He left the room without another word, fury boiling in his stomach. Part of him had to admit that he wasn't in his room enough to be bothered by someone hiding there for a few minutes. Another one just hated admitting defeat.

"Felix!"

He turned to her, glaring with all of his strength at her shoulder. She was still smiling, he knew, but it was softer, less scheming.

"I won't be in here much today," she said with a shiny smile, "but if you need my room again, knock before rushing in. Just in case. Okay?"

Okay, maybe she wasn't the worst. He nodded briskly before going down the stairs. Leonie, she had said. The red-haired student of Jeralt Eisner, right? Maybe that would be nice, after class.

But not in the training grounds. Today, he would have to find another place.

Said other place turned out to be the woods outside the monastery, right after class, after avoiding pointedly the Boar. There, Leonie managed to make him walk right into a trap she had prepared for him. The red-haired girl looked smug and while half of him wanted to rip that smirk off her face, the other had to be at least a bit impressed at how easily she had tricked him. He had to be more vigilant.

"Using my anger against myself," he was groaning as he helped her refill the hole she had dug into the ground, "I can't believe it actually worked. I'm not sure it would help you much in combat."

"Well I don't know," Leonie snorted, "when you have the advantage of terrain, like during sieges or things like that, you can prepare traps like the one I just made, don't you agree?"

She had a point, he begrudgingly admitted. She then tilted his head.

"However, I'm not sure anger was the only reason it worked. You look distracted and while I don't know you much, it seems unusual. Something the matter?"

She sounded barely interested, more curious as to know whether or not she'd get to try again with him more focused. Maybe that was why he simply shrugged, giving her the shovel back before appraising their work.

"You might have seen a man, here, this morning. He looks a bit like me."

"Can't say I have," she answered easily, "family visiting? That's nice."

"Not really. He wouldn't visit. I don't know why he's here."

"Why don't you ask him?"

Felix stared at her fist as if it had just asked a stupid question.

"Let's just say that if he asks you where I am, which he shouldn't, you should tell him that I'm out."

Leonie winced.

"Oh, got it. That sucks. Anyway, that was fun, let's do it again soon!"

"Fun for you," he retorted, "let's have a real fight next time, see who's laughing."

"Oh don't worry. Even there, I'll have a few tricks up my sleeves. You noble kids don't learn how to fight dirty."

"You'd be surprised." Glenn had never been above a bit of hair pulling, tripping or using his opponent’s weaknesses. And Felix had used all of these and more to try to get an edge on his bigger and stronger brother and friends.

"I hope so," she laughed, taking her bow with the shovels and winking, "see you later Fraldarius."

And he had to admit that maybe, just maybe he didn't despise her. In fact, she had given him food for thought. These were all points he could incorporate into his training, later. After whatever Seteth wanted to ask him.

He didn't have chores today, but Seteth had caught him the moment he left class, telling him to find him whenever he’d have time. So Felix had to get to his office. Probably had more to do about him not having any friends, he figured (almost kind of hoped despite how preachy it was, really, he did not want it to have anything to do with his father's presence), rolling his eyes as he went up the stairs. He wondered what he'd have to do to convince the man to leave him alone.

That was the moment a certain woman chose to notice him and call him.

"Ooh, if it isn't dear Felix!" Professor Manuela crooned. "Just the young man I wanted to talk to!"

Felix would probably never admit out loud that he didn't dislike Manuela. That he actually liked her, and the way she sang beautifully in her office when she was alone or wanted to show off. He sometimes wished he had gotten to hear her when she was at the Mittelfrank opera. She sounded amazing even now, what would she have been like at her prime?

But he absolutely disliked her tone of voice, right now, when he could almost taste the way she was trying to butter him up for some reason. She had never needed him before, why would she need him? Right now? As his father was present?

"So, tell me young man", she said sweetly, "I noticed that your father was at the Monastery."

He groaned. He knew it. She laughed.

"Could you tell me what he likes?"

And that... wasn't what he expected. He frowned, suspicious.

"What?"

"What he likes, honey. I'd like to give him something he'll enjoy."

"Why are you trying to give gifts to my father?"

She winked and his stomach screamed as the answer came to him.

"No." he said.

"Well he is a handsome man, and not married if I may."

"He's a widower."

"And has been for around fourteen years."

"No, no, no, I don't want to think of my teacher and my father..."

He choked on the last words, disgust stuck in his throat.

"Aww come on," she laughed as if his horror was amusing, "I just want to know what kind of food he likes. You know? Try to have dinner, see if sparks fly, normal stuff."

"I refuse."

"Pretty please."

"No."

"I'll take you out of the choir roster for a month."

Oh.

Oh the evil, evil woman, she knew how to negotiate.

"Still no", he said.

He had hesitated. He knew he had hesitated and so did she.

"You'll have a doctor's note taking you out of chores for next week. I'll have Sylvain assigned with Dimitri instead."

The possibility to avoid Dimi... the Boar, was tempting. He was still hesitating, she didn't leave him the time to stand his ground.

"Also there'll be a small Opera recital in a few weeks if you want. It's for orphans in the street, Dorothea will perform with me. It's a small thing so we kept it hush hush, but you can come if you want."

He scowled and turned before she could say more.

"Felix!" she called him, disappointment in her voice.

"Just... don't choose something with too many vegetables," he answered angrily, "and..."

Sing. He wasn't sure if he should say so. Part of him hated knowing that he shared anything with his father, especially his embarrassing fondness for music.

"You can sing," he muttered, "he won't hate it."

"Noted, sweetheart", she said kindly, "thank you again."

He left, feeling dirty, but not regretful.

Seteth was waiting. He was sitting for once, as he usually preferred standing up when talking to people. His severe face always looked like he was two seconds away from nagging and Felix really, sincerely, deeply hoped it wasn't what he was about to do.

"Felix, welcome," he said, "you must be wondering why I called you here."

Straight to the point, he could at least appreciate that.

"A matter has come to my attention," Seteth kept going, "and I figured you might be the best choice for it."

"What is it?"

Seteth's stare was unimpressed, silently asking him to be patient as he explained.

"I won't sugar-coat it, the Lance of Ruin has been stolen."

Felix's breath froze in his throat, but Seteth didn't let him take the time to process the matter.

"Duke Fraldarius, your father, has asked for the Church's assistance, so Gilbert and a few knights will apprehend the thieves. However, the Archbishop cannot spare many of them, so one of the houses will be dispatched to help with that mission."

"I see."

"The house she has chosen was the Golden Deer house."

Fury shook through Felix's body, suddenly. He slammed a hand on the desk.

"Excuse me?"

"I understand you disagree with that choice, but know that I have nothing to do with it."

"This is a Faerghus matter! Why would the Alliance be the one sent?"

"Technically, as His Grace left the matter to the Church, it is not anymore. Lady Rhea said she chose the most neutral party as to avoid conflicts of interest."

Felix snorted. He could see in Seteth's eyes that they both knew what the real reason was. Professor Byleth Eisner.

"This is utterly ridiculous," Felix hissed.

"While I do not disagree with her reasoning, I do believe that Faerghus should have more of a say on the matter," Seteth nodded slightly, "which is why I called you here today. Most of the Golden Deer house doesn't know much about Faerghus's fighting style, their traditions or even the place they are about to storm. I'd like you to join them during practice in the following days, to impart your knowledge upon them so the mission goes as smoothly as it can."

"Why me?" Felix asked harshly. "I'm not exactly the poster boy for inter-houses friendship and Sylvain is much more involved in the matter than I am." If it had anything to do with his so-called lack of friends, he swore...

"Sylvain might actually be... too involved in the matter," Seteth sighed, "the thief is Miklan Gautier."

Oh.

Felix suddenly felt cold, anger snuffed out by ice. He nodded, all of his furious energy disappearing as if it had never been there. This changed everything.

"Fine," he spat, "I'll do it. When and where do I need to go?"

Felix could remember precisely the first time he heard the voice. He had no idea why it chose that time to wake up, but it had and it'd been snarling in his head ever since.

Maybe calling it a voice was too much, it was more of an instinct, a growl, something more animal than human but still understandable. Something giving him an invective, an order that he was desperate to obey, the order to keep fighting.

And the very first time he had heard it had been the last time he had seen Miklan Gautier.

Keep fighting, it screamed. Keep fighting, when you're down, when you're losing, when you feel like you can't win.

Keep fighting.

It was hard to remember a time where Felix hadn't been fighting, but one thing he knew for sure was that that voice liked to manifest itself in one situation more than any other:

When Felix was scared.

Felix didn't scare easily, or at least he didn't think so. But whenever fear danced inside his chest, even for one second, the voice was there, roaring. Screaming at him not to stop. To stand his ground.

Felix was used to it, by now, and it was hard to think of it as a voice, it was just part of him, and he figured it was just his fight or flight instinct being particularly loud and fight-oriented. After all, it had only changed its tune, whimpering stiffly for him to run once, hadn't it?

Thinking about the Western Rebellion was enough to make him nauseous.

Anyway, the thing was, he remembered precisely the first time he had heard the voice, and it had to do with Miklan Gautier.

It had been a lesson he hadn't understood at first, really. "If Miklan is here, never stay alone with him." But Glenn had been so, so serious when he said it, and Sylvain always looked so scared when they were alone with Miklan, so he had obeyed without questions. It had taken his young naive oblivious self far too long to understand why, exactly, Miklan was such a threat.

Maybe that was why he wanted to see it done himself.

"Not like that, Kirstein," he growled at the Golden Deer, "that's the best way to get skewered by a lance. Your muscles aren't a shield, they won't protect you. You need to keep your balance on your other foot."

Raphael Kirstein changed his position and nodded with a beaming smile.

"I see! That's smart! You give good advice, man!"

Felix rolled his eyes and looked at the other Golden Deer, who were in pairs, working against lances. Leonie and Lorenz had been the only ones with a bit of experience with them, luckily professor Byleth was proficient too, making it easier. It really wasn't a weapon they were used to fight, and Felix once again wondered why it was him Seteth had chosen. Surely, Ingrid would have been a better choice, at least she used the lance. Whatever, things were as they were and the moment Miklan's name had been uttered, Felix had known he would do whatever he could to help those who had been sent to slay him. And it wasn't just training against lances they wanted him to supervise. They needed to know how to avoid faux-pas on the way, but mostly, they needed to know the layout of Conand Tower, where Miklan had gone with his band of thieves, and since it was a Fraldarius stronghold, Felix knew, despite all of his complaining, that it was the reason he had been chosen before anyone else. The part that still stung, though, was that he was sent because they needed to know as many things as possible that they would have already known had they been part of the Kingdom.

Despite the anger he felt at the decision, Felix didn't feel angry at the Golden Deer themselves. They hadn't made that choice, it was all the Archbishop. He couldn't even be angry at the professor, the young woman hadn't chosen to catch lady Rhea's eye after all. And in truth... he almost couldn’t feel angry at the Archbishop because with all that had happened recently, the Golden Deer were the only class with so much war experience and its professor was the most efficient, even he had to admit that...

So he grit his teeth and went to help.

"Hey, Felix! Thanks for your help!"

Felix barely took the time to glance at Claude von Riegan before the man sat on the ground, at his side, with a loud sigh. He turned to Felix, smiling at him with indifferent eyes.

"I was wondering why you came here this morning. To be honest, I almost expected you to ask Teach for a duel! What a surprise it was that you wished to help us."

Felix grunted, crossing his arms.

"Do you want to train, yes or no?"

"Yes, yes, leave me a minute. I just went against Lorenz, my brain needs to patch itself back together. I'm pretty sure he forgot this was just sparring."

Felix raised an eyebrow.

"Just because it's sparring doesn't mean it can't be a serious fight."

Claude laughed at that and stretched a bit before standing.

"I have no idea why I expected you to answer any other way when you practically live on the training grounds. Honestly? I don't know if we're a good sparring match. I can barely do swords and lances are hell to me."

"Lances are not my thing either."

Felix bit his tongue the moment it had escaped him. He had wanted to say it to show it was no excuse, realizing far too late that it sounded like a weakness. And if there was one man who could take any small weakness and use it against you, it was definitely Claude von Riegan.

And indeed the Leicester heir, was still smiling, but his cold eyes were calculating now, the twitch of his lips more thoughtful.

"Really? I heard that's unusual in the Kingdom. Knights mostly use lances and axes."

They did. And Felix remembered very well how, as a child, he had been told time and time again that he would have to work twice as hard for others to recognize his worth, as swords were not highly regarded as a weapon. He had taken it as a challenge back then. Even now that the idea of ever being a knight felt repulsive to him, he still took it as a challenge.

"What are you getting at?" he answered coldly.

"Nothing," Claude laughed, "you're just unusual that's all. Not that it's a bad thing. I like unusual."

He stood up, raising his axe.

"So, Professor Felix, you who knows about Kingdom things, show me how exactly I'm supposed to fight against a lance."

One thing that Felix realized pretty quickly after only a few hours of dealing with the Deers was that they were loud.

There was always something happening that made one scream or talk loudly or laugh. Whether it was Raphael finding something or another funny, the von Ordelia girl screaming at them to stop treating her like a child, or Hilda Goneril whining about work. It could also be Leonie proclaiming her love for "Captain Jeralt" and his training, or Claude poking someone just the right way to make them explode in anger or laughter. The only ones who seemed to know the meaning of the world 'quiet' were Marianne and Ignatz, and in Felix's humble opinion they actually were too quiet. It was freaky. They both looked like they were trying to melt inside the shadows. He supposed Byleth Eisner could be seen as quiet too, but the professor was actually talking a lot, thought mostly in monotone, imparting knowledge and advice and anecdotes that could help. While her students were almost treating her like a friend, it was still obvious that she was there to teach them. And she was damn efficient at that too. To the point that Felix had started thinking that Seteth had been worrying for no reason.

He was surprised to realize that he didn't mind the noise all that much. They were mostly leaving him alone, only asking for his opinion on random stuff and accepting a shrug as an answer when he didn't care. Maybe it was because it was so different from the stifling silence of the Blue Lions... Most of the noise there was due to Annette's clumsiness and as endearing as it could be, it couldn't erase the heavy silences that seemed to surround the classroom everytime he, Sylvain, Ingrid and the boar prince found themselves together. Even the times they got angry at Sylvain's womanizing did nothing to break that tension. But it wasn’t there, with these people, this other class.

However, he drew the line at them asking him for dinner.

"What?" he said, furrowing his brows. "Why?"

"Well duh," Hilda said rolling her eyes, "you've been helping us all day when you didn't have to. Let us at least offer you dinner!"

"Don't let Hilda do you any favors," Claude said, joining them before winking, "she'll find a way to make you pay for them later."

"Oh, I know," Felix mumbled, crossing his arms.

"However," the Golden Deer leader added with a glint in his eyes, "I think the whole class would like to offer you dinner."

"This is the Academy's dining hall. They're not making us pay for dinner."

"Semantics," Hilda answered, hand waving his argument, "it's the intention that matters, join us please? Pretty please? We had so much fun with you!"

She was batting her eyelashes at him in a way he guessed could have been attractive to anyone interested by that kind of thing, but he had a feeling even she didn't expect it to work on him. He opened his mouth, ready to refuse, more by reflex than anything else, scanning the room for a lone table.

That was when he realized there wasn't any lone table left except the one the Deers were getting to. He usually liked eating earlier, when the dining hall was still mostly empty, but right now, that wasn't an option. All tables were full and the few places left were in the middle of rowdy bunches or, he noticed with a wince, worse, Dedue and the one he had somehow chosen to devote his life to. Maybe he could come back and eat later...

A hand lightly touching his sleeve brought his attention back to the Deers, who were all here now, watching him with expectant eyes and he felt far too exposed, right now. Trying to escape their gazes, he looked at the one touching him. Surprisingly, it was Marianne.

"Do..." she tried, looking almost terrified to ask. "Do you think... you could sit next to me?"

What? What was she saying?

He saw Hilda wince.

"Oh Marianne, dear Marianne, we're so sorry. We'll try to be quieter, promise."

"Oh no," Marianne said, almost shuddering, "do not apologize. I am the problem. I... Everyone is all so nice... But sometimes... it's a bit much..."

A buffer. She wanted to use him as a buffer.

Somehow, seeing the blue-haired girl shivering, unable to look up, he didn't find it in himself to be offended. He figured that made sense, he was quiet himself, but noise didn't seem to bother him that much. You couldn’t grow with Sylvain and Glenn and be bothered by loud noises...

He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Sure," he said begrudgingly, "I'll eat with you tonight."

The class erupted in cheers before dragging him along, not leaving him the time to regret his decision before being sat down with a plate of Pheasant Roast. His mood felt better already.

Dinner was strangely nice. Just like the rest of the day, they mostly left him to his own devices, including him in topics they figured could interest him but not minding his monosyllabic answers. He listened to them distantly, only feeling his ears almost raise themselves when one piece of information forced his head up.

"A knight?" he asked Raphael almost despite himself. "You want to be a knight?"

The boisterous muscle-man laughed happily.

"Yeah! That's why I'm here! Had to sell my possessions but no regrets!"

He was eating joyously and Felix couldn't help an unfortunate deja-vu feeling. A blonde, eating a lot and wishing to be a knight. What had he done to the Goddess to deserve another Ingrid.

"Really," he grumbled, "and why is that?"

He didn't know why he asked. His mood was already soured, anyway.

"Well my folks are dead you know? So I need to take care of my little sis! And since my brains aren't that good, I'll have to use my muscles. Knight is safer than Mercenary and has a good salary, so I'll be able to support her that way!"

That...

Felix blinked.

That actually was a pretty good reason to be a knight.

"I see," he simply answered.

"Ignatz wants to be one too," Claude chipped in, "but it's only because that's what his parents want for him, isn't that right Iggy?"

"What? Please, do not... It's my duty as a second-born," the bespectacled teen said, clearly ill at ease, "I need to provide for my family too after all."

"And do you have to be a knight for that?" Leonie groaned.

"It's tradition for the second-born to provide through knighthood."

"And what a shame that is," Lorenz added, unusually morose, "I'd much rather have you at my service for your other talents."

How weird it was for Felix to agree with Lorenz on something. He didn't even know what these 'other talents' were and Ignatz wasn't a bad fighter. It was just painfully obvious how much he didn't like it.

"Screw tradition," he mumbled in his food, his appetite small.

"Hear hear," Claude said happily, "but even if you're not here because that's what you want, I'm glad you have our back. You're amazing with a bow, you know?"

"Ah... Please," Ignatz stammerred, "I'm far from your level or Leonie's."

"But neither of us have your magic mastery to compensate," Leonie retorted, "so accept the Seiros damned compliment."

Lysithea began explaining pompously all the advantages of magic over weapons. On Felix's other side, Marianne stayed silent, though she was clearly listening to the conversation, lips slightly raised. What a noisy bunch, really.

The way they talked, though, without any awkwardness, was enough to make him lower his eyes to his plate. It made his chest ache with some sort of longing.

What are you thinking, he scoffed mentally, you're the one who decided to get away from them. You don't have the right to complain about awkwardness...

"Felix."

He raised his head again, seeing Claude's eyes, shining green, hiding what he really felt. His smile was guarded, and it reminded Felix of Sylvain. Except he didn't have the feeling Claude was the kind to choose self-destruction as coping.

"Thanks again for today, that was very helpful. Any chance we can ask you to come again?"

Seteth would probably nag at him if he didn't. But mostly, he really didn't want Miklan to harm anyone else. So he just shrugged.

"Sure. One day of training isn't going to change much after all."

The table cheered happily again. Sincere. He had no idea if they really liked his company all that much, but he suspected it was more that he proposed original training techniques? That or they were just the kind who liked company in general. It would make sense.

None of those explanations told him why he felt his cheeks warm a bit at seeing them so happy to have him for a while.

It had been two weeks. He had successfully mostly avoided his father, the man only managing to secure a polite dinner with him along with the Boar. Hearing them fawn upon each other had been enough to ruin any appetite he might have had. He had been rescued by professor Manuela who said she had a question to ask to Rodrigue, with these charming smiles of hers. He had been obliged, of course, and Felix had taken the opportunity to escape.

The fact that he was helping the Golden Deer out of his class hours and had been taken out of the chores roster, like Manuela had promised, made him that much harder to find. Ingrid had nagged at him twice already, about how he didn't need to hide that much. And he wasn’t hiding. Much. He had only taken Hilda's offer once since after all. He had answered that he was just doing what Seteth had asked of him, which had surprised her. Either she had no idea what he meant, or Seteth had asked her too and she had never expected him to agree. As far as she was concerned, though, he was only obeying to avoid his father and she judged him a lot for that. She could think whatever she wanted.

The thing about the Golden Deer was that they were not just loud, they were hard working. Maybe that was unfair to say that, because as far as he had seen, most of the student body was hard working and Hilda Goneril was one of the few exceptions. Lorenz was annoying as all hell, and he could really do without Claude's incessant teasing or Lysithea's offense at his dislike for sugar, but there was something refreshing about them that he couldn't explain. Maybe it was because they didn't expect anything from him except for fighting instructions. There was no history there, just respect and good-natured grumbling when he tore their technique apart before correcting themselves. Not everyone took notes when he was explaining the intricacies of Conand Tower, but enough of them were for him to know they'd at least be a little prepared. He had also gone with them once, to rout a few bandits, and the teamwork had been more than respectable from what he saw. He was used to fighting alone, but when he had stopped for a second, even he had to admit that the way they fought seamlessly together had been impressive, especially for people who had met each other less than five months ago.

He had wondered, just one second, how it felt to not have to watch your back because the one person you trusted to take care of it trained so little you spent more time being scared for him than anything else.

Claude and Byleth both casually complimented him on his work part on the way back. It felt like an actual compliment, but also something Claude had given everyone in the team. It had felt awkward, Felix didn't think he was part of the team.

And the day to fight Miklan was coming nearer. And Felix still felt nervous and jittery and the nightmares were becoming more and more frequent. His hand was shaking when he fought, his attention was fleeting in class.

Fight, the voice said again and again in his ear, keep fighting.

How ironic that he was so safe, and yet he felt more afraid with each passing second.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Claude's voice brought him back and he blinked. They were sitting, waiting for their turn in the baths. When had he agreed to go with them? Right, he hadn't, they had just gone there after training, because it was what you did if you cared a bit about not being smelly and sweaty when going to bed.

The Verdant Rain Moon was a terrible moon, as far as Felix was concerned. It was hot, wet and terribly unpleasant. Thirty one days of pure hell that he had never hated as much as this year. His clothes were sticking to his skin and his body felt like it was screaming, cooked alive.

Near him, Claude didn't seem bothered one second and Felix would deny how jealous he really felt at that if one asked. But by the Goddess he was jealous.

"The heat," he simply grumbled.

"Ah, I guess the weather must be hard on your Faerghans," Claude laughed, "we'll feel better after a good bath."

Felix rolled his eyes. At least Conand Tower would be colder. Wet and miserable too, probably, but colder. Though he didn't think the cold would bother the Golden Deer as much as the heat bothered him. The tower had never been a comfortable place, Miklan would have to...

And there it was again. His body shivering despite the heat.

"Felix."

Claude was looking at him again, face serious for once, eyes warm with worry. Was it sincere? It was hard to know.

"It's nothing."

"The mission worries you."

Claude said it in a matter-of-fact way, without showing any indication that it wasn't supposed to be obvious. He shrugged.

"That's why you came to us after all", he added, "Seteth may have asked it of you because, as a Fraldarius, you know Conand Tower better than anyone, but it's clear you're nervous about it."

"I'm not..."

"And there are reasons to be. I mean, what you've taught us about the Tower, about Kingdom Politics and about the way nobles are taught to use the lance are reasons enough to be worried, without speaking of the Lance of Ruin. We know lady Rhea is only sending us because the knights are busy. Sending mere students to such a threat? Yeah, being worried is perfectly normal."

Felix scowled. Claude was smiling again, eyes twinkling.

"You prepared us well, you and Teach. Don't you think?"

"I won't feel guilty if any of you die, if that's what you’re asking."

"Ouch, rude," Claude laughed.

Felix sat straighter, wondering when the baths would be ready. Many of the guards and other students had left, he knew they were bringing more hot water, but it was starting to feel like they were being made to wait on purpose.

"How do you feel about us being sent there?"

His body was heavy as lead. He had been wondering, since the very beginning, why no one had asked that of him except for Seteth. Maybe it was tact, maybe they didn't care. In any case, he had been grateful. But there it was, just a few days before mission day, and Claude had lost to curiosity. Felix glared at him. Claude wasn't looking. He had found a shiny pebble and was staring at it as if it held the mysteries of the universe. Like his question to Felix wasn't an important one and like Felix could ignore him and it wouldn't matter.

Felix stared at the pebble.

"I hate it," he blurted out, "this is a Kingdom matter and it should have been dealt with by Faerghus."

"Hmm", Claude hummed, tilting his head to indicate that he had made a point, "I agree with you on that. However, since the relic weapon is involved, the Church had to be involved too."

While Felix only half agreed with that, he also knew that Margrave Gautier dealing with the matter himself would probably have been worse. So he simply scowled harder.

"And well, the only knights they could spare that are familiar with Faerghus are led by Sir Gilbert. I assume you're familiar enough with him that you'd understand why I'm actually happy he doesn't have to go with your class?"

Gustave. Felix had heard in passing that he would join them, but he hadn't thought much about it. Now that he realized it, though, it was quite obvious that indeed, it would have been tactless to force the estranged father and daughter together for a deadly mission.

"Annette," he mumbled, "she could have taken it."

"Maybe. What about Sylvain?"

For a few seconds, Claude's eyes looked dead and Felix turned his head away, feeling his stomach churn, thinking about it. He had never hated Miklan more than every single time he thought about Sylvain, Sylvain, Sylvain who had been hurt so much and still felt love for the bastard who had almost killed him more than once.

"I was there too, you know? After Lonato. When Ashe came to us. When he broke down after hearing of his adoptive father's death. I was there. And I was oh so glad that we didn't bring him with us like he begged to. Because no matter their relationship, no one should have to kill family."

Felix's hands clenched and he grit his teeth, glaring at the ground.

"Knowing all of that," Claude added more lightly, "I'm actually pretty happy that you guys weren't sent to take care of the matter. But I also know that lady Rhea probably didn't think about any of that when she chose us and that had Teach been instructing the Blue Lions, you guys would have gone instead. She just wants the Sword of the Creator as insurance against another Relic, which I can understand, to be fair..."

Felix snorted bitterly. He could hear Claude's smile when he talked again.

"In the end, what is done is done no matter the reasons. So let's all do our best and kick ass. I think the baths are ready, you coming?"

Felix nodded and followed, hands balled on his sides as fists.

Claude was right. Claude was infinitely right. That wasn't even painful to admit, it was just heavy. Claude was right. The Golden Deer were probably the best choice, some in the Kingdom would still think of an Empire force coming in as an invasion, even centuries later. The Golden Deer were a neutral enough force.

"Politics," he scoffed quietly.

Claude laughed at his disdain. Yes, it was probably the best choice if he had to think about damn politics and Sylvain's emotional state. Didn't mean he had to like it.

"I like you, Felix," Claude said happily as they entered the baths, "I hope you'll grace us with your presence again, even after the mission."

Felix thought about Leonie's ingenuity and Marianne's soft voice. He thought of Ignatz's blushes when Lorenz complimented him and Lysithea's fierceness and determination to master anything and everything. He thought of Raphael's love for his little sister, so painfully familiar he sometimes felt burnings behind his eyelids, being reminded of someone who would never come back home. He thought of Hilda, offering him her room to hide. He thought of Claude, always knowing and smiling and curious, but never pushing too hard, giving smart orders as easy as he breathed, his strategies always made with one consideration above all else: keeping his classmates alive. He thought of Byleth, the best swordswoman he had ever met, who could best anyone with ease and then listen, with these empty yet understanding eyes of hers.

He thought of them all and, with a pinch to the heart, realized he hoped the same thing Claude did.

He didn't sleep that night. His thoughts kept him up. His conversation with Sylvain. Memories he wanted to erase. The voice talking louder and louder but what could he fight, really? His bed? Ridiculous. For the first time he wanted his instincts to shut down and let him rest, please. He ended up standing and leaving his bedroom. His feet led him past the Boar's door, just in front of Sylvain's as he stared at it.

What was he going to do?

He just stared, and stared, not knowing whether he wanted to go inside or not, check on him, make sure he was still breathing, or just leave and wait, watching as the Golden Deer left the monastery grounds to kill Miklan Gautier.

He painfully asked his feet to turn back. Try to catch a wink that he knew would evade him. Once in front of his own door, though, he didn't feel the courage to open it. Feeling uncharacteristically weak, he let his head rest on the wood and sighed. He didn't know what he was feeling. He didn't know why this hurt so bad and why he was so afraid. He just knew he was and that didn't make it easier. He was so angry. Why was it so hard? Why was what so hard? He didn't even know. He hated it hated it hated it...

"Felix."

A soft voice dragged him from his thoughts. Next door, Claude von Riegan was looking at him with those sparkling green eyes of his, smiling face unreadable.

"I heard you moving around," he offered as an explanation.

"What are you doing up?" Felix grumbled, knowing the hypocrisy of the statement but not caring.

"I am usually up before dawn. Better for meditation."

"Meditation?"

"No day can start without a good meditation as far as I'm concerned."

"Isn't it a little early?"

"Not really, dawn isn't far."

Dawn. Felix swallowed painfully. So he really hadn't slept. Usually, he would wake around this hour and go train. He would hear movement across the next room, most mornings. Was it Claude waking and then meditating?

"You seem really out of it," Claude commented lightly, "you haven't snapped at me even once. Did you sleep at all?"

He ignored him pointedly.

"I need to speak with the professor."

Claude's eyes sparkled for a second. He didn't know how to interpret it exactly, but it seemed like a confirmation. As if Claude had suspected he was going to say that from the very beginning of their conversation.

"I can't promise anything," he told him, "but if she says yes, you're going to want to see Manuela. Can't have you falling asleep on your feet."

And Felix indeed had the feeling he knew exactly what he wanted to ask professor Eisner. He scowled.

"Fine," he bit out, "I will."

Claude looked at him, smile never leaving his lips, but eyes more serious than Felix ever remembered them.

"Teach will probably wake soon. You should dress up. And if you can do anything not to look exhausted. I'm sure Hilda has make-up if necessary."

"No thanks, I'll manage," he muttered angrily.

He had bags under his eyes when he left his room next, he knew, but he also knew that his gaze was clear, awake. His step was fast. He was perfectly awake. And he was pretty sure he wouldn't need Manuela to give him something to hand on for the day, but it wouldn't hurt to ask. And it could wait, Claude was waiting for him, smiling, and inviting him along. Felix followed, scowling but silent. All of him was focused on one thing and one thing only: how to fight for what he was about to ask.

Barely two of the Golden Deer were already there when they reached professor Byleth. Leonie and Marianne, tending to the horses. The girls wouldn't go on foot. Gilbert was there too, speaking with some of his knights. As the professor turned to him, unreadable as always, he forced his determination to turn to stone.

"I have something to ask," he bit out, teeth clenched.

"You want to come with us," she answered simply.

Good. At least she wouldn't make him say it. He wasn't surprised she and Claude had guessed, to be honest. He knew the way he had been acting had made it pretty obvious.

"Yes."

"I expected you to ask before the day we would leave," she said, nodding slightly, "it's a shame you didn't."

"And why is that?"

She stared at him, eyes disturbingly empathetic yet empty.

"Why do you think we brought you with us to rout bandits? We Golden Deer are very focused on teamwork. If you were to join us in such a dangerous and important mission, we needed to make sure you could work with us as a team."

She sighed, looking disappointed.

"If you had asked earlier, organizing exercises with you would have been easier. Now, with only one under our belt, I'll admit I'm a bit hesitant."

"I won't slow you down," he growled, "if that's what you mean."

"Oh no, that's not what I'm afraid of."

"Then what's the issue?" he snapped.

She stared. It was so hard not to fidget under that stare. He looked at her shoulder, trying to remind himself of the arguments that had been swimming inside his head all night as to why he needed to go.

"The issue is whether you'll obey orders or not," Byleth Eisner ended up saying with a low voice, "you haven't fought with us enough for you to know instinctively how to help and defend our group. And there's no way I'm leaving a student alone, so we'll have to fight as a unit. That means that if Claude or I give you an order, you'll have to obey. Which, I know, isn't something that comes easily to you."

Red came to his cheeks, warmth, and he didn't know if it was anger or shame. He chose anger.

"Are you serious?!"

"Deadly," she answered, calmly.

"Why didn't you ask me yourself if I wanted to come, then?" maybe that was unfair. He didn't care.

"We're not the kind of people who would force anyone's hand. If you decided to come, it had to be your decision and yours alone. It's just a shame you took so long to ask."

Felix was seething. And he could have sworn there was amusement in the professor's empty gaze.

"So now," she said softly, "the question is if you can accept and obey our orders or not. Nothing else will do.

He hated orders. He hated them because most of the time, they were given by know-nothing know-it-all who only thought in material loss and didn't give two shits about lives lost. It was cold and calculated as to how to win more efficiently. And then it was celebrating the dead as if they were worth more now than they were when alive.

Felix hated those who gave orders, especially when their so-called tactics were poorly-disguised idiocy and lack of competence hidden behind fancy words.

He grit his teeth.

Just once.

"Fine," he said finally, voice harsh, "I'll obey orders."

Just once, if it was to see Miklan fall, it would be worth it.

Byleth nodded.

"I hope you're not just saying that," she added, "your safety is important to me. To all of us. Now, scram. Manuela should already be working. You're going to need an energy boost for today's part of the journey."

Important to them, sure, whatever. He rolled his eyes and obeyed, as she had asked. Just once. It would be worth it. It had to be.

Conand tower was a place made to repell invasions. There were secret passages, traps and so many other death-inducing features that going there without knowing its layout was a death sentence. Felix had spent days explaining its details to the Golden Deer and he knew for a fact that his father and Gilbert had done the same to professor Eisner and the knights accompanying them.

It still was still a gigantic snare, trying to pull them deeper into its maw. And the more they got inside, the more he could see his teammates realizing it. He could see it in the way Hilda held her axe closer to her chest, how Lysithea had pressed her lips so hard they were almost white, how Marianne's grip on her horse was tighter than ever, how Lorenz had gone silent, Ignatz looked around frantically and even Raphael had lost his smile. Only Claude, Leonie and Byleth weren't showing much emotion, though Leonie was too focused on trying to temporarily fix her broken bow for that.

Gilbert and his knights were backing the rear, looking severe. Reinforcements had come out several times from hidden passageways, they all needed to be on their guards. Byleth was guarding Leonie as long as she was focusing on something else, gaze still unreadable. As for Claude...

Claude hadn't left Felix's side.

Felix had found it annoying at first. He could watch his own back, thanks a lot. But he could feel the professor's gaze and a silent reminder that it was ‘obey orders, or you're out’. Yes, she'd actually spare a knight or student to bring him out if she felt he did anything dangerous. And apparently, straying away from Claude was dangerous.

With all the traps, all the reinforcements and the way they were all at their wit's end and still nearing the biggest challenge, he was starting to understand. His nerves were starting to get the better of him too, hands sweaty, sword shaking as if what he was about to see wasn't a man, but a monster born from his worst nightmares. He felt jumpy, nervous, and Claude's calm presence and bow had been a blessing more than once. His orders, quick and concise, too.

As Felix felt himself disappearing inside his head more and more, retreating to only focus on fighting and dodging and forgetting about anything else, there was always a firm word to mind his back, defend Lysithea, look left, archer forward, each and every one of them bringing him back to the present. More than once he snarled, saying that he knew. And yes, he knew. And he obeyed because the orders made sense and they had yet to deplore any casualty on their side, which was near miraculous.

He was shaking. It was just the anticipation, he figured, once he saw Miklan, he would be okay. He couldn't afford to falter to memories.

Seeing Miklan didn't change anything.

Miklan was bigger.

Felix had no idea why it was so surprising to him, to realize that people weren't stuck into place when they disappeared from your life. Sylvain's brother had always been bigger and meaner than them and somehow he hadn't expected him to grow even bigger and even meaner.

How childish.

Miklan was bigger. Miklan looked meaner. Miklan snarled at the students and knights, his face, that could have been handsome, deformed by rage. And Felix was fifteen again and about to fall, fall, fall.

" **FIGHT**!" the voice roared inside his head.

Felix jumped on his feet, dodging an arrow that had been pointed right at his head. He heard Leonie swear before a thud. Byleth screamed something. Felix's blood was pumping, heart beating loudly. He heard Miklan scream in anger again, his lance hitting Lorenz's. Lorenz was a much poorer lance wielder than anyone raised by the Gautier family could ever be, he had no chance. When Felix raised his head, ready to run and rush to the two of them, fear gripping his heart as he forcibly turned it to anger, there was an arrow. And then a second one.

The archer that had almost hit him fell dead. Two other bandits replaced him, axes and lances. Felix let anger and fear take a hold of him as he skewered the first through the neck. The other fell immediately, another arrow right in the forehead. When he lifted his head up, Claude was pointing to Miklan.

"Support Lorenz!" He exclaimed.

He wasn't speaking to anyone in particular and Ignatz was already running to his classmate. It was a bad plan, Ignatz was a long-distance fighter, if Miklan saw him and went to him he would have no chance to fight back. Lorenz was thrown aside with a grunt and stayed down, seemingly dazed. Miklan didn't take the time to finish him off, seeing Ignatz coming to him. Felix ran. Claude screamed something at him that sounded like "Felix, careful!".

No time for careful. His sword stopped the Lance of Ruin and he felt his heart freeze.

His sword had stopped a sacred relic and the world had seemed to stop. Right in front of him, he could see, slowly, recognition hit Miklan's face. And then there was a smirk, angry, furious even, but a smirk nonetheless.

"Long time no see, brat," he growled, "I'm going to take pleasure in this."

He would, no doubt. And Felix was fifteen again and terrified and **FIGHT**.

"DOWN!" Claude screamed.

And Felix let go of his sword and jumped to the ground. Ignatz's spell went right above his head, hitting Miklan in the chest. Felix didn't wait, scrambling for his sword and getting up again, ready to fight, fight, fight, angrier and angrier.

Miklan stumbled, a forced smile on his face as he looked at them. Behind them, the knights were fighting the remnants of the bandits. Felix looked quickly, seeing Marianne heal a quivering Lorenz while Lysithea and Raphael guarded them. Leonie had given up on her bow and was now holding a lance, face hard. Ignatz's hands were raised, ready to attack again. Claude and Byleth were just behind Felix, serious, ready to attack the moment he would get closer, almost protecting him. He didn't need protection, he wanted to growl. He didn't need them guarding him like dogs.

He swallowed it back, blood thumping against his head.

"Not bad," Miklan laughed, looking as if he was trying to show more assurance than he really had.

The Lance of Ruin was a holy weapon, a dangerous one. It was said to be able to defeat whole armies. Just because it had been briefly stopped didn't change that. Maybe he really felt that assured. He didn't seem all that hurt either, Ignatz was good at magic, but his wasn't very powerful. Felix raised his sword, mentally begging his hands to stay still. There was cold satisfaction inside his gut when he noticed that his sword wasn't shaking.

And of course, that was the moment the nightmare chose to start again.

The transformation looked painful and Felix could do nothing but watch, bewildered, as the devil of his childhood, the monster under Sylvain's bed, the brother of his friend grew limbs that had nothing to do on a human's body, turning it every bit as monstrous outside as he had been inside. And Felix stared, amazed and horrified, wondering what, in all that was holy, was happening to that person he had known all his life and hated almost as long.

"Felix! Fall back, fall back!"

Claude's voice brought him back to reality, reality where usually people did not turn into monsters and - had it really just… what had it just done to his men? His stomach was churning, horror and distaste the only feelings he was able to identify in his heart.

The Golden Deer were all grouped together, as far from the beast as they could be. Lorenz was standing again, though his face was pale and Felix didn't feel like he'd be any use fighting whatever that... thing Miklan had turned into was.

For a second, he felt immensely glad that Sylvain wasn't here.

The chatter around him sounded panicked, even Byleth's placid voice was nervous and incredulous.

"Ignatz, you stay away from it," she was saying, "you're guarding the rear along with Lorenz, do not get close. Lysithea, you support them, but stay on your feet in case we need your help."

"Understood," the young girl answered with a nod.

She was clearly trying not to show how terrified she was. Felix honestly would have been more disturbed if she hadn't been scared. He knew he was. He was terrified. He had been in multiple battles before, had taken his first life at fifteen, but that? That was a nightmare come alive. His heart was loud and his breathing quick. The voice was screaming at him to **fight.** Soon enough, the monster would turn to them.

"Hilda, Raphael, Leonie," Claude said then, "you stay on your feet too. Take potshots, don't stop moving unless it's not looking at you anymore. Mind the tail. Marianne, we're counting on you."

"Sure," Leonie said back, hands gripping her lance so tight Felix feared she'd break it.

And then, Byleth turned to him.

"Felix..." she started, clearly not knowing how to finish.

"I can fight," he growled.

There was doubt on her face. It didn't last and quickly enough she nodded, but it was there anyway. And he felt good, familiar anger bowling in his gut. Good. Much better than the agonizing fear.

"Don't lose your head," she simply said, "Claude?"

"I'm guarding his back," the leader promised, "along with Hilda's and Leonie's. And yours, Teach."

"Perfect. Prepare yourself, it's coming."

The beast howled and there was no more time to be scared.

It was horrible.

Their weapons barely seemed to be damaging it. After a few seconds, it became obvious that they could at most distract it. Only the teacher, with her divine relic, could hurt it. So of course, the beast, smarter than it looked, came after her.

He could see the way his teammates scrambled to keep it away from her as the teacher, no matter how efficient she was, couldn't handle the gigantic creature by herself. He threw himself at it too, desperately wishing for his blade to pierce the armored skin, scales, whatever that was. Don't lose your head, she had ordered, and he was trying not to. He was trying. But nothing was working. Nothing until one precise moment, as they were starting, not to lose hope, but to really start being terrified. Hilda screamed before hitting it, her crest glittering in the air. And the beast. recoiled. The young woman recoiled too, clearly shocked at how effective her hit had just been. The beast turned to her and it was just thanks to Raphael, tackling her to the ground, that she dodged it.

Lysithea used the beast's momentary distraction, its back turned to her, to hit it too. The Gloucester crest shone in the air as her magic found its target, forcing it away from her classmates. Once again, the beast recoiled, a pained yowl tearing the air. Byleth put herself between Lysithea and the beast, scared it'd take her as its next target. She swiped the girl in her arms as the beast charged them. They narrowly escaped being crushed against the wall, Leonie throwing her lance at its next to distract it. Claude gasped behind Felix, making a link none of them were calm enough to make.

"Crests," he mumbled.

Crests. Seiros, he was right. And Felix didn't need anything more. He could feel the Fraldarius crest, humming in his veins. And with all the fury and strength he was able to provide, he hit the beast. Twice.

The armor cracked.

And Felix felt elated.

It had worked.

"Felix!"

The tail of the creature caught him in the chest.

He fell heavily to the ground, sword torn from his hand. Breath cut short from his lungs, he turned just in time to see a claw, about to tear into him and rolled to the ground, desperately trying to avoid it. The second claw that hit at him found itself right into Claude's shoulder.

Marianne screamed, a painful, high sound. Claude's green eyes shone, pain turning into satisfaction and just a bit of fury as he turned, finding himself in front of the creature's maw, opening to take a bite. And then, the young man smirked. As if he had the monster just where he wanted it.

With lightning-quick speed, he let an arrow go. Riegan’s crescent moon-like crest shone brightly as the arrow went right through the beast's mouth.

Miklan roared, forced back by pain and agony. The arrow had torn through it. As he rose from the ground, Felix could see clearly the place where he had broken its armor. It was protecting it, looking around wildly like the wounded animal it was.

It would almost be pitiful if they weren’t still the ones in the most danger here. Its tail beat the air around it wildly.

"Hilda!" Claude yelled. "Raphael! The tail!"

The blonde teenager didn't hesitate, catching the tail with his bare hands. That was insane. He was going to be smacked to the wall like he weighed nothing. And then, Hilda arrived, with a war cry.

Her axe cut clean through the tail.

A hand touched Felix's back and he saw Marianne, tracing a healing glyph on it, trembling. Her eyes were wide open, fear burning like a blue flame in them. He nodded at her, feeling bruises and ribs healing. He hadn't even noticed the pain before it had stopped.

"Teach," Claude added, "keep it busy with Lysithea! We're going to break its armor. Ignatz, you cover for us!"

He turned to Felix. In his hand, there was Felix's sword. His shoulder was healed. Felix was pretty sure Marianne hadn't touched him. How had his shoulder healed.

"It'll be better without his tail," he said with a dark smile, "let's do this."

Felix took his sword. "Obviously," he snarled, "don't slow me down."

"Don't worry," Claude answered, lowering his bow and taking a small hand-axe instead, "I won't."

The beast was a powerful thing. And it was wounded and aggressive. But once the overwhelming panic that had been showering them had calmed down, one had to realize that it had one tremendous weakness.

As the knights were dealing with the fleeing bandits, it was alone. Against a dozen.

Byleth and Lysithea were tag-teaming it with terrifying efficiency, Hilda, Leonie and Raphael distracting it enough that it had, it just had to show its wounds to Felix and Claude.

Felix avoided being slammed into the wall, and then his sword pierced the skin. It stayed stuck inside it, damn it. He let it go with a grunt and a swear. There was no way he'd get it back easily. Claude's hand axe flew to the side of the beast, breaking skin again, but falling harmlessly onto the ground. The beast turned to them, growling. It found itself facing Byleth. Instead of cowering in front of the holy weapon, the beast howled again and bit down.

Surprised, Byleth raised her sword, its elongated form slashing at the beast and forcing it away. It didn't change targets. Despite Leonie hitting at its backside, it growled and attacked the professor, once again. 

Claude’s axe was right in front of him, on the ground. Felix didn’t hesitate, he picked it up and, despite his lack of experience with that kind of weapon, hit its leg.

The beast paused and turned to him, teeth bared in hatred. Just a moment, Felix wondered if Miklan was still in there after all, ready to see him and to take his revenge. The beast turned to him and howled.

A spell hit it right where Felix had broken its armor.

It went through it and sent it, sprawling, to the ground. As Felix raised his eyes, they fell on Lorenz.

Far from the fight as he had been, Felix had almost forgotten about him. He was still pale, on shaky limbs. But the beast had turned away from him, showing him his weak spot. And he had taken the opportunity.

The beast tried to rise, and fell again, whining pitifully, a sound that somehow still sounded terrifying. Felix looked at it squirm, and then, stop moving.

Slowly, its form changed, shrinking back into that of a human.

Felix's sword was still stuck in Miklan's flank. As he stared at the corpse, Felix felt too tired to share his teammates incredulity and tentative relief. The picture was horrible. Like that, dead on the ground, Miklan looked so much like Sylvain it was awful, he wanted to gag.

But that wasn't Sylvain. That was Miklan.

And maybe it was awful, maybe someone who hadn't been raised by Faerghan wars would be sick, like Ignatz who was puking with Marianne's hand gently patting his back.

But not Felix. Felix could only feel deep, deep satisfaction as his legs shook, the voice mumbling comfortably inside his head that he could **rest** now.

"How are you not hurt?"

Claude looked at him with amused surprise. His permanent smile had found its place on his face once again, though his eyes were still quivering a bit.

They had started walking back a few hours ago, ready to put distance between them and Conand as soon as possible. The knights who had survived the fight were behind them, silent and solemn. Claude was still on his side, he hadn't left it, as if professor Eisner's orders had to be followed even long after the fight. Felix suspected he had just wanted a silent companion. And Marianne was being fussed over by Hilda. Too bad for him, Felix actually wanted to talk. Just a bit, though. Just a bit.

"What do you mean?"

"You took a claw to the shoulder." For me, he didn't add. "How are you not hurt? I know Marianne didn't heal you."

"Ah, that," Claude laughed, a cold, joyless sound, "it's my crest."

"The crest of Riegan heals?"

"Yep."

Felix furrowed his brow. That was useful. Maybe a bit too much.

"How do you activate it?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't play dumb. Most crests don't activate just because they feel like it. Does it heal you the moment you get hurt?"

"Why so much interest?" Claude teased, genuine amusement over his face for once. He relented in front of Felix's glare. "Yes and no. It's still a minor crest, you know? While it can passively heal me from many things, like most poisons or Flayn's cooking for example, it has to take it from elsewhere. And when I am injured, the quickest and easiest way to activate it is to hurt something else."

It made sense. He had hit Miklan right afterwards. A deep, deep injury, maybe the one that had decided the fight.

"Most poisons," Felix hummed, "did you actually try that?"

"Something like that," Claude laughed, "I also have a really hard time getting sick. Last time it happened, I woke up in the garden one morning, surrounded by dead flowers. I was perfectly fine, though."

Crests weren’t all powerful like some thought. What it gave, it had to take from somewhere. Felix’s strength came with practice and tired him up quicker. Sylvain’s made him shake for hours, and the Boar’s broke anything he held when he used it.

"That's practical," was all he said.

"Sure is," Claude agreed happily, maybe too happily, "and now that we're here and alive, if I may ask a question, how was fighting with us? Not too hard I hope, we've gotten used to your style after all, but that was one hell of a first time."

Fighting with them?

It had been fine.

Strangely fine.

They did not overcrowd him, but they had watched his back. And after just a few skirmishes, he had noted that he didn't need to worry much about them, that they could handle themselves and he just needed to watch their backs, but without losing his mind over it.

So indeed, they had worked well together. Especially with Claude. Claude who had fired arrow after arrow without missing his target, saving Felix's life probably more than the other way around all the fight long, all the while barking orders, orders that, to Felix's ear had seemed honestly pretty well thought. The tactics were mostly simple, knowledge of his classmate's strength, putting each of them where they'd be most useful, making sure no one was left to fend for themselves. Protecting each other.

There was a pang in his chest.

It had worked. None of the Deers were exceptional warriors, except maybe for Claude himself and the professor, but none had been severely harmed, even Lorenz had managed with broken ribs and a lesson taken. And while he had been down, they had adapted quickly enough. They knew each other enough to know what needed to be done to work together. And Claude and the professor's eyes were enough to survey the battlefield and help direct them when the fight was taking all of everyone else’s focus.

They had been incredibly efficient. Thinking on their feet. Pragmatic. Felix's tongue felt heavy in his mouth. He wanted that, he admitted painfully. He had never felt more able to fight his own way than he had today. With teammates who would take a wound for him, but not endanger themselves, who always had a plan, always knew how to act not to bother him. And maybe there would be others like that. Maybe if he enrolled in a mercenary troop he'd find out that most fighters were this way, that it was just him and the damn history he had with so many of the Blue Lions that made him feel sick and tense and unable to simply fight without overthinking it when they were the ones by his side.

"Your tactics were decent," he managed to say out loud.

"Great praise from Your Surliness," Claude said lightly, "though if we ever have to fight a beast like that again, please do mind the tail."

Felix rolled his eyes and strode forwards, letting Claude behind him. The leader squawked and trotted to catch up to him. He didn't need to, probably. Felix just walked faster, wishing to reach the professor Eisner. And each step was cementing his decision. Each step was reminding him of the space he had been given, the easy camaraderie with no expectations, the way the Deers had flourished in the very few weeks he had spent watching them, the professor's firm and good guidance and Claude, saving him, smiling and lying through his teeth, yet able to lead effortlessly, protecting all of his teammates without fail just through observation, and then throwing himself in battle to help Felix with his crazy unvoiced plan.

"Hey," he said once he was at the professor's side, "we need to talk."

Hilda was still nagging Marianne about how pale she looked and how she knew some way to help her gain colours back on her cheeks. It was background noise, annoying but not unbearable. Probably better to make sure no one would be listening to him except for one nosy Golden Deer leader.

Byelth Eisner turned to him, not one bit of emotion on her face. It took all of his might not to show how embarrassed he was at what he was about to say.

"You're quite skilled," he started, "the way you fought there was admirable."

"Thank you," she said softly, "coming from you that's very high praise."

Why did they keep saying that? Just because he didn't compliment everything and everyone didn't mean he was unable to give a compliment when it was due. He turned his eyes away, annoyed.

"Anyway," he said, "I'd like to study your sword technique more. Perhaps if I joined your class, I could watch it up close."

Behind him, Hilda gasped loudly. So much for trying not to get heard.

Byleth looked at him, eyes piercing through his body. She nodded.

"If you're sure," she said, "we can oversee the procedures once we're back home."

Home. She had an interesting way of seeing her workplace. He shrugged.

"Sure," he answered, trying to look unaffected. When was the last time he had called someplace _home_?

"Waiiit," Hilda said again, louder, "is Felix joining our class?"

"I hope so," Leonie yelled from where she was walking along with Ignatz and Lorenz, "no offense but you guys mostly suck as sparring partners compared to him!"

Raphael whooped a happy cheer and laughed, telling Lysithea about something unimportant. Hilda made a squeal of delight and Marianne smiled softly. There was warmth on Felix's cheeks, annoying warmth that was almost enough for him not to feel Gilbert's heavy, surprised gaze on his back.

Gilbert would stay silent, he knew, but he also knew that others wouldn't be. There'd be nagging, questions, reproachful gazes and shock. The next few weeks promised to be annoying.

But if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that the weight that seemed to have been lifted from his shoulders agreed with his decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, there are so many things I want to talk about, where to start?  
> Well, that Hilda and Felix moment! They're another pair I felt had a lot of potential, and then there's that bug in Silver Snow where Hilda is in Felix's room instead of her own, and also the fact that when Felix is hiding from his father during the Miklan chapter he's near the girls' bedroom and welp xD That scene was created. They'll have a few more interactions like that, kind of like a small support chain and I'm pretty happy about it! Speaking about Support chains, there are a lot of supports I love in the game that stay at B rank, which I think is a shame, and the Seteth & Felix one is part of it. There's just something so touching about Seteth trusting Felix like that, it's obvious the boy isn't used to it, and I wish it had been explored a bit more!  
> Then there's Manuela, haha. In case anyone was surprised at her being at Castle Fraldarius last chapter, there you have your explanation (also I love the fact that Felix canonically likes music, yet doesn't even know that Dorothea is a songstress before their A rank, I think it's hilarious).  
> Another thing that trotted in my mind when I was thinking up this chapter was how Felix would react to each of the Golden Deer and then I remembered that Raphael wanted to be a knight and thought that yikes, Lixie wouldn't like that. But then, I remembered his reasons for wanting to be a knight and figured out that even Felix couldn't find anything wrong with that xD  
> And now, Miklan... Well I think it's quite obvious that in that fic, _something_ happened between Felix and Miklan, but what? Good question! The answer one day. Probably. *looks at all the chapters I still have to write to get to that revelation* Also, I might have been playing/watching too much Dark Souls back when I wrote that chapter, that's the only way I can explain that tail thing x)  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you so much for your support!


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judai meets Annette, and Faerghus elects to take the fight to the Empire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone know that in the base game, Annette is the character with the most support conversations? Yes, I actually counted. For every single character. With and without Byleth, with and without counting the DLC. If you forget the DLC, Annette wins. Which came as a shock for me because while I like her, I didn't remember most of her support conversations. I remembered those with Claude because they made me laugh a lot, same for the ones with Linhardt, and the C rank with Felix because at the time I was all 'damn, Felix tries to be nice and that's what happens? He's not gonna try anymore xD'. But yeah, she's also the only one in the 12 characters with the most support conversations in the base game who did NOT get additionnal conversations thanks to the dlc (thus dropping to fifth place if I remember well, Bernie is the new N°1 because she and Mercie got SIX new conversations thanks to the dlcs). I'm still a bit surprised at that btw, when you add a dlc with new characters and new conversations, why only give them conversations with the characters who already have the most in the game?  
> Anyway, that was the random musings moment for today. If you want the numbers or other random facts like that one, ring me up, you have no idea how much random stuff like that I've been looking up when waiting for work... For example, the only characters with perfect food compatibility (meaning there's no food one hates and the other likes or love) are Gilbert and Seteth. This kind of things.  
> I hope you enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter 7**

_Your way to life has only shown me what a fool I am_

_It serves the purpose of confirming I remain condemned_

_And I will ever linger on the edge_

_Unless you hear me_

**29th day of the Ethereal Moon, Imperial Year 1185**

**Judai**

"Hello, my name is Annette! Are you new?"

Judai blinked at the red-haired girl who had just greeted him. She was small, much smaller than even he was. Her smile was huge and, surprise of all surprises, sincere. That was a rarity these days, he thought, smiling back before shaking her hand.

"Judai. And you could say that, I guess."

" _Let's not tell her you're old as balls_ ," Yubel said happily.

" _What would my life be without your commentary, oh my love?_ "

" _Tragically boring._ "

Annette nodded, energy coursing through her body as she jumped lightly with enthusiasm.

"Well that's good! There aren't many new faces here! I couldn't believe it when my father said there was a new situation, can you believe it? His highness is back! How amazing is that? Oh, this changes everything, I'm so happy. Ah, but you must have heard that a thousand times already. I've never been to Fraldarius before, but I'm glad, it means I'll see familiar faces!"

Judai laughed. He liked how happy she was. The last days had been misery upon misery, even if Rodrigue's happiness at seeing his prince hadn’t been ruined by said prince's frankly terrible state of mind. Nothing would go through him. How the older man found the patience and hope to just smile at Dimitri and promise things would get better, Judai didn't know but he was jealous of it.

"Oh, Mercie! Have you met Mercie? She's my best friend. I've been told she was supposed to be here, to cook with me? That's probably going to be a disaster, haha. Mercie is good at cooking but mostly she makes sweets. And I'm clumsy, but I'll do my best! Can you cook? Oooh, is that why you're here?"

"Yup," Judai answered with a smile, "I was supposed to help Mercedes cook. I'll have to admit, though, some of your spices? Never heard of them so I'm counting on the two of you."

"Some of our spices? How come? They're not especially rare, Faerghus isn't the place with the most diversity."

It had been a thousand years, he prefered not taking anything for granted. He fortunately didn't have to say so, as Mercedes came in, her everlasting serene smile sweet on her face.

"Oh, Annie, I heard you had arrived just earlier," she said with sincere joy, "so you've met Judai? Great. Let's start our cooking chore and do our best."

And so they started, though barely before Annie squealed as Mercedes talked.

"What?! You're the one who brought His Highness back?!"

"This is like a class reunion."

It had taken a while to calm Annette down, she was screaming apologies about some perceived over-familiarity and lack of respect. Ten minutes later, finally, Judai still chuckling a bit to hide the unease he felt at her now over-politeness, they were cutting vegetables, the girls talking softly. When these words reached Judai's ear, he shushed Yubel, curious.

"You're right," Mercedes agreed, "we even have Felix. The only ones missing are..."

"Dedue," Annette sighed, "and Ashe."

A silence. Mercedes looked so sad.

"His Highness said Dedue died to save him."

Annette let out a small sob, though her eyes stayed dry.

"That'd be our Dedue. Loyal to the very end."

The silence that followed was heavy, and Annette's eyes started quivering. Feeling very very out of place, Judai took another vegetable.

"So, who is Ashe?" he asked in what he hoped was a light tone of voice.

"Ah," Annette sighed weakly, "that's our classmate too, he is... well... He is from the Gaspard lands. In the Dukedom."

"Which means that he serves there," Mercedes muttered.

The Dukedom, the Dukedom, what was the Dukedom already?

" _That's how the Empire calls the parts of the Kingdom they conquered_ ," Yubel reminded him.

Right. The Dukedom. Because according to the Empire, leaving conquered countries their independence was a bad thing and assimilation was apparently much better. Judai nodded, then realized what that meant and winced.

"Oh," he said, "I hope we won't have to fight him."

"I hope so too," Annette said, "we saw Hapi and she said Rowe was going towards Fraldarius lands, not that long ago. But there hasn't been any sign of an attack."

"You saw Hapi?" Mercedes wondered with amazement. "Did she have anything to say about the Alliance's state?"

"Not really," Annette admitted, "I think she's sworn to secrecy. She was just checking on her hometown and leaving again. Though..."

The red-haired girl stopped, her roughly cut potato only halfway finished.

"Though there was something weird," she added, "she was going South. Not East. Like she was going to Garreg Mach instead of Derdriu."

Garreg Mach. Judai tilted his head.

"Is there something still in Garreg Mach? I heard the place was destroyed."

"Not much," Mercedes sighed, "no one dares come close. Once the Empire troops finally left the place, it was taken over by bandits. The knights left, searching for our missing Archbishop, and no one was left to protect it..."

"Why would a single girl go there?" Annette wondered. "It's dangerous."

Mercedes hummed. Judai felt his hands shake a bit. Garreg Mach, again and again. That name kept being said. He needed to go there, he thought, but what if there was nothing left? If what he was looking for wasn't there anymore? Could he handle it?

Yes, he wanted to help the people here, deeply. But in the end, maybe it was cowardice that had him stay here when he was left to wander around as he pleased and could have gone any day.

" _Or just maybe the fact that you have no idea where anywhere is and that your sense of direction is terrible so you would get lost._ "

" _As if it ever stopped me from wandering off before._ "

" _Oh, my love, good thing you have me now._ "

" _Good thing I have you indeed._ "

"Ah," Mercedes exclaimed lightly, "maybe it has to do with, you know?"

"Huh, no I don't?" Annette answered with a tilting of her head.

"Aaah right, you weren't here for it Annie. But a week ago or so, Felix was asking for permission to go to Garreg Mach. It had to be denied, because it was far too dangerous. Lord Rodrigue refused that he go alone and well, we need every hand on deck, so he couldn't in the end."

"Why would Felix want to go to Garreg Mach?" Judai asked with surprise. "You just said there was nothing of interest there."

"Well, yes. But then Felix went to write a letter. And since we have to make sure no crucial info is sent by accident, because we can't guarantee the arrival of our letters, I had to proofread it!"

"Really?" Annette's tone was so surprised, Judai wondered why. "Who did he write a letter to?"

"Well, I didn't get the exact address. But it was to an inn near the border with the Alliance. Basically, in his letter, he was apologizing, saying he wouldn't make it in time for their promise."

"How romantic," Annette giggled. Then she calmed down. "Yes, it's awfully romantic, are you sure we're still talking about Felix?"

"I don't think it was something romantic," Mercedes smiled, "don’t you remember? Five years ago, Claude was talking about a promise for the Festival, between the Golden Deers."

"The festival? The Millenium festival? Speaking of it, it should have been four days ago... And it should have been such a wonderful time."

Instead, here they were. Judai finished cutting up his potato. A promise, Golden Deers, the Alliance. He was starting to figure out what Felix had done that he thought bothered the others so much. Annette and Mercedes, though, sincerely didn’t seem to mind. Was it all in his head?

"It's sad they didn't get to keep their promise," he said softly.

"It is," Mercedes sighed, "but things are as they are right now."

The sad atmosphere was oppressive. Judai inhaled and asked them what the Millenium Festival would have been like, if it had happened, or what they had wished for.

The girls lit up immediately, blabbering about pastries and decorations and lights in the sky. He smiled at them as they talked, already feeling much better. When Gilbert, Annette's father, came to find them, they had barely finished their task.

Judai didn't know why he was there, in a war council. As he realized quickly enough, all of the former Blue Lions were war commanders, even small peppy Annette, even serene and kind Mercedes, so it made sense for them. But him? What was he doing here?

Rodrigue and Gilbert were discussing war plans above a map, talking about reconquering territories from the Dukedom, about how the people would unite behind Dimitri now, about how they had a chance.

Dimitri who wasn't even present.

And of course he wasn't present. The temple was the only place he felt safe. He was here, surrounded by allies, and only felt safe in the Temple because it was the only place he wasn’t suffocating in. Judai had seen it, the abject terror turning into fury in his eye, anytime he went anywhere with walls, closing in. Dimitri couldn’t stand the idea of being locked up anywhere, Judai wasn’t even _sure_ they’d manage to get him to leave that place unless they promised he’d get to stay outside.

While Judai agreed with the sentiment, the one about people uniting behind their prince, he also felt ill. The destructive claustrophobia was the least of their worries. With the state he was in, Dimitri was certainly not apt to command an army, nevermind ruling a country. He understood the hurry, he understood the need and the hope.

He saw Dimitri, growling, eye insane, and muttering to his ghosts.

"This is our best chance to push back the Empire's armies," Rodrigue was saying, and Judai saw Dimitri, screaming in his sleep that he would have the Emperor's head, begging for his ghosts to just stop _looking at him_ the way they did...

"With His Highness at our head, the people will know the rightful king has returned," Gilbert added and Judai saw black armor, glistening with blood as he walked, sowing destruction, killing whoever was in his way, ready to fight and become stronger, stronger, stronger so he could never taste defeat, so he could never lose...

Lose what.

What did he have to lose? Did it matter if he didn't lose? He couldn't lose, it was unacceptable, he couldn't, so he needed to get rid of every threat, of everything that could be dangerous, of every opponent, everyone brave enough to fight him, everyone, everyone, he would fight, he would kill, and they would follow him, without discussion, they would, for they too wanted to destroy and kill and maim and obey, _obey_ him until...

"Hey, you alright kiddo?"

Judai jumped and almost fell down. His eyes were blurry and when he inhaled it was painful, as if he had stopped breathing for too long.

He wasn't in the war room anymore, he noticed, shivering slightly. There was a humming in his ear, Yubel whispering, bringing him home slowly. When he raised his eyes, they fell on Sylvain. The red-haired man's hands were holding him up.

"What..." he started, feeling nauseous and dizzy.

"You didn't look well," Sylvain interrupted him, "so I took you outside."

Outside. He wasn't...

Oh, outside the room. Yes, he could still hear voices, not far from here. Judai's hand found a wall and he let himself slide down against it. His breathing felt shallow, as if he wasn't completely there. Sylvain had let him go, but he was still staring at him, unreadable.

Judai closed his eyes.

"Hey Mister Sylvain," he sighed, "do you think Dimitri is fit to lead an army, right now?"

He heard Sylvain, crouching in front of him.

"Why that question?"

"Do you really have to ask?"

There was a silence. When Judai opened his eyes, Sylvain looked conflicted.

"I don't know," he admitted, "on the one hand I'm scared he'll kill himself rushing ahead. On the other, his mere presence has already remotivated the troops so much, leaving him behind would be counterproductive."

"And he wouldn't stay behind," Judai mumbled, noting with a pang of fond sadness that he didn't seem scared of Dimitri slaughtering anyone and everyone in front of him without distinction. Judai wished he had that much faith.

That, or Sylvain didn't really care either way. War could make you see horrors as normal after all.

"I guess, we have to try," Sylvain ended up saying, "let's have a battle. See how it turns out. Then we'll see."

Judai nodded weakly. A disdainful scoff echoed behind Sylvain.

"This is going to be a disaster," Felix's scornful voice said and when exactly had he followed them out, Judai didn't know, but he wasn't surprised he did.

Judai agreed with him and wished he'd be wrong simultaneously. Sylvain turned to his friend, face full of reproach.

"Let's have a battle," Judai mumbled, "I suppose I'll have to participate, earn my keep."

The idea almost made him gag. He hated it. He hated it so much.

Sylvain laughed, as if he was joking. So Judai stared, hating it but knowing it was all he could do. He must have looked quite serious, Sylvain's laugh petered out. He looked surprised. How was it that someone like Annette could be on the battlefield and yet they had clearly all assumed he couldn't fight? If Judai wasn't so busy feeling sick, he might have been offended.

Felix came closer, looking at him with intent.

"You can fight," he said as if he was indeed surprised, but not asking a question.

"I can," Judai confirmed.

"You look weak."

"Well thanks."

Felix rolled his eyes.

"Mentally," he explained, "you almost collapsed in the middle of a strategy meeting."

Oh. Judai tried to smile and scrambled up, figuring his shivering figure probably didn't help his image.

"Yeah, sorry, this woke up bad memories. But you're also right. I'm weak, right now. Very weak. I was woken too early, my strength hasn't come back to me yet."

"A thousand years is too early?" Sylvain snorted.

"Apparently, yes. Believe me, I'm the one most bothered by it. But even if I'm weak, I can still fight. Just not at my best."

Felix was still staring at him, at his shoulders, inquisitive.

"Well let's see it," he said brusquely.

Yubel started laughing in Judai's head as he jumped.

"What?"

"Training grounds," Felix said firmly, "now. Let's see what's your 'not best'."

The training grounds. Of course. Even after just a few days, Judai should have figured out. Felix was a fighting addict after all.

" _Look who's talking,_ " Yubel snarked, " _though it is quite forward of him to invite you into his safe place so early into your relationship._ "

" _You're not letting that go, are you?_ "

" _Never._ "

"That's kinda..." he started.

Felix was already leaving, without even checking if he was following. With a startled laugh, Sylvain ran after him like the good little jailer Felix seemed to see him as.

" _Go,_ " Yubel laughed, " _or have you forgotten? You love fighting._ "

" _That's not exactly..._ "

" _You like it when it's for fun. It's a sparring session. How many occasions do you think you'll have to actually fight for fun, here and now?_ "

Yubel made a pretty good point. And his body seemed a bit lighter suddenly. His muscles felt sore with disuse, as if they had been atrophied almost.

He didn't feel ready to go to the battlefield. He was scared, he felt sick, he didn't want to. But there was nothing to lose here. It was just a spar. Fun times. That wasn't a serious fight, no death penalty for the loser, no terrible maiming or blood or scars. Just a small test of competence. He could do that. He could do it gladly.

He forced himself to smile until it felt natural, his steps almost becoming a skip due to an enthusiasm he really wanted to feel.

He found the men at the training grounds, outside. It was still freezing, but the furs they had lent him were warm and comforting. Sylvain was elbowing Felix, Felix glaring at him in answer as he took a wooden weapon.

"What do you use?" Felix asked impatiently the moment he saw him. "We don't have that many training weapons but there must be something you can handle."

There was nothing that looked like what Judai tended to prefer, to be honest. He looked at the weapons, wistfulness reminding him of his homeland. These weren't too different from the ones the Nabateans and humans had used back in his time, in the place he had spent his last years awake. But none looked weighted like those he was used to. After a brief hesitation, he took a long sword. It was heavy and clunky and not at all like the blades he was used to, but in reach and wielding style, it seemed to be the closest.

"Okay boys!" Sylvain exclaimed, clapping his hands. "Let's do this! Don't forget, it's just a mock-fight, don't be too violent!"

The warning seemed aimed at Felix. Judai decided to take it for himself anyway.

This didn't change the fact that Felix immediately took the advantage.

If his fighting style was grateful when seen from the outside, it took fighting him for Judai to realize just how ruthless it was, not just in aggression, but in openings. There was nowhere to fight back, as if he knew exactly where his opponent would hit and how and already had learnt all the parries and footwork necessary to render any of these useless.

How many types of weapons he had fought against for such mastery, Judai wasn't sure, he just knew it had to have been literal years. And his blood was boiling. Judai usually wasn't one to parry much, preferring to go on the offensive. Felix just didn't leave him that choice, forcing him on the defensive. Judai was pretty sure he heard Sylvain quietly swear, maybe trying to tell his friend to chill and stop going so hard from the beginning. Please don't Judai mouthed silently at himself, knowing his eyes must have been shining.

Good opponents. People stronger than him.

These were the people he liked fighting the most. You had something to learn from everyone, even opponents much weaker than you were, but masters? Masters were always something else. And just like the one whose crest he bore, Felix was, undoubtedly, a master in his craft.

Frankly speaking, Judai wasn’t even sure he could have defeated him with a blade alone at his best.

Fortunately, they had never mentioned only using blades. And even though he knew himself a gracious loser, Judai was nothing if not someone who enjoyed winning.

" _Don't overexert yourself,_ " Yubel reminded him.

" _I wouldn't dream of it,_ " he promised, calling forth shadows around them.

They moved erratically, as if confused by his orders, which showed once more how weakened he was. But they still went up, howling as suddenly, he threw them right at Felix's leg, hoping to trip him. There wasn't enough power to actually push him down or hurt someone, he wasn't strong enough. But tripping the opponent? That he could do, and definitely wasn't above.

There was a small tumble.

Felix smirked.

Judai's blood ran cold.

" _YUBEL!_ " he screamed mentally. " _SCALES OFF!_ "

He barely had time to protect his chest with his arms before a lightning hit him, projecting him to the ground.

He fell with a groan of pain. The magic hadn't been strong, not really made to hurt him. Still, he didn't want Felix to be hurt by his own attack. Not to mention he wasn't exactly ready to show everyone just how immortal he was.

As he tried standing up, a wooded blade found his neck, forcing him down. Felix stared down at him, looking satisfied, like he had scratched a particularly bothersome itch.

"Gotta admit," Felix drawled with far too much smugness, "out of all the tricks I expected you to be capable of, dark magic wasn't one."

"Likewise," Judai grumbled, competitiveness falling apart for a while as he reveled in the joy of a good fight.

By the Gods, he loved good opponents that could keep him on his toes. And he hadn't lost in a while. It felt good, for once. He rose to his feet without effort, his lips stretching into a smile. Felix didn't look like the type to shake his opponent's hand, so Judai didn't try, flashing him a brilliant grin as thanks. As confused as Felix looked by the display - not everyone was usually happy to get their ass kicked after all - he didn't ask, Sylvain trotting towards them before anything else could be said.

"Goddess, Felix. Did you really have to go that hard?"

"That's how he wanted me to go," Felix retorted, collecting Judai's discarded weapon.

"He's right," Judai confirmed happily, "don't you worry about me, that was great!"

Sylvain looked at him weirdly and Judai did all he could not to giggle stupidly. It had really felt great and maybe he was a fighting addict too. Too bad actual, real fighting could never be that fun...

"If you say so," the red-haired man ended up saying with a shrug, "but anyway, your style was a bit familiar. Can't figure out where I saw it, though."

"Flayn," Felix answered from afar as he put away the weapons, "she didn't use the sword much, but when she did it looked like that. She had to show us when she was dancing."

There was a glint in Sylvain's eye that Judai wasn't sure how he felt about as Felix said that. He opened his mouth.

"No." Felix interrupted him without even turning.

"Come on!" Sylvain whined. "I'm not talking about you! But him! Don't you think he'd look great in it?"

He pointed at Judai. Judai who felt very confused right now. Felix glared at Sylvain before coming back to them, almost stomping.

"It'd be too big for him and even if it wasn't! We are not putting him in the dancer outfit by this cold. What's next, going to Ailell and keeping our fur coats?"

"Well maybe he doesn't need the outfit, I mean, it just helps with learning, and Flayn taught you all, right? Can't you teach him?"

"Over my dead body."

"She told me you were good at it!"

"Over. My. Dead. Body."

"Even if you don't have to wear the outfit?"

An outfit? Judai tilted his head, not sure he understood. As if sensing his confusion, Sylvain tried to explain what the dancer outfit was and why it was a great idea for him to wear it, as Felix protested and viciously hit him in the ribs to stop him.

It sounded incredibly short and indeed not appropriate for the weather.

" _It's probably better for your hormones if that Felix doesn't wear it,_ " Yubel teased.

" _You teasing me everytime I think someone looks pretty will get old soon. Plus, I'm not exactly a hormonal teenager anymore._ "

" _I don't think you ever were a hormonal teenager. Your version of being attracted to someone is wanting to see them have fun._ "

" _Is that so bad?_ "

" _No, it's beautiful and I love you for that._ "

Judai smiled, feeling a bit of warmth in his chest as he sent fondness back to them. They smiled against his soul.

A cough distracted him, bringing him back to the outside world. Sylvain wore a teasing smile as Felix glared daggers in his back.

"Well that's a flustered expression if I've ever seen one," Sylvain crooned, "methinks you'd like to see it."

Judai shook his head with a chuckle, wondering if he should tell him that he was talking to the love of his life, literal other half of his soul, and accessorily a dragon that made him indestructible. It might have been worth it just to see his face.

Ingrid took that option from them as she found them. She looked absolutely done, which Judai interpreted as her not even trying to go anywhere else first, likely knowing she'd find Felix here. The way she looked at Judai, though, full of suspicion, was proof she didn't expect to see _him_ here however. He smiled at her as if he couldn't see that she disliked him. No use in being antagonistic.

"The meeting is over," she greeted them, "we're leaving tomorrow. Prepare your stuff."

"Sure!" Sylvain said. "Do we have spare stuff for the kid?"

"He's not coming."

Felix's voice cut into the conversation, heavier than lead.

"What?" Judai asked. "Why? I know you beat me, but I think I showed I could fight."

"Are you kidding? Your stance was terrible, you had no balance, your grip was clearly lacking with how quickly you let go of your sword, and if you get surprised so easily, the first strong enemy will rip through you with ease."

Judai winced. Ouch. That hurt. Knowing all of this criticism was due to lack of a proper weapon and rustiness didn't actually make it easier to bear.

"Okay," he exhaled, "then I'll have to get better. I literally haven't fought in a thousand years, don't you think I can become useful by getting better?"

Felix glared at his shoulder, stubbornly refusing to meet his eyes, mute in his anger. Judai was reminded of the conversation that they had.

Did Felix refuse that he come with them because he wanted Judai to go to Garreg Mach?

The truth was, Judai didn't want to fight. Really. If he could avoid fighting, killing, hurting, he would love to. The other truth was, that after enjoying these people's hospitality, seeing their predicament, and realizing how dire their situation was, Judai knew there was no way he'd leave them behind. Especially Dimitri.

Gods, he couldn't leave Dimitri behind, not after knowing exactly what the risks were. If he could help someone not becoming the kind of monster he himself was, there was no way he'd stay away.

"I don't know," Ingrid said slowly, "I'm not sure..."

She didn't want him to come either, he knew with dismay, she didn't trust him, not that he blamed her. Sylvain didn't trust him either, but he wanted him with them so he could keep an eye on him, so he was his only ally in that matter. Judai turned to him, opening his mouth to protest. He didn't have to.

"But we need hands," Ingrid sighed, bothered, "there aren't enough of us to refuse help when it's offered."

Felix's expression morphed, turning into a furious scowl, an ugly, almost painful expression.

"Great," he grit out, "so we bring him to die too."

"Felix!" Ingrid exclaimed, looking angry as well.

Judai wasn't sure it was the right time, once again, to tell them just how unkillable he was. They were arguing. Ingrid yelling about how insensitive it was. Sylvain laughing, saying they wouldn't die so easily.

"This coming from the suicidal one who has thrown himself in front of me to protect me two weeks ago?" Felix sneered. "That's not reassuring."

"You did WHAT?" Ingrid yelled, turning her anger to Sylvain.

"Calm down, Inga!" Sylvain pleaded. "Felix already scolded me, I don't need..."

Judai watched them.

And maybe there were many things he could have taken from the conversation but he had almost forgotten the angry words as soon as they were pronounced.

What he saw were the tears in Ingrid's eyes as she reprimanded Felix, pain and sadness, not just at his callous words but at his lack of hope. What he saw was the wounded way Felix was holding himself when he mentioned Sylvain being suicidal. What he saw was Sylvain's empty, empty smile and eyes, like a barrier between him and the world.

He thought of the way Dimitri, broken, hateful Dimitri had let him share his fur coat almost without complaints. Of Mercedes lending him warm clothes and welcoming him with kindness. Of Annette grinning and babbling, all enthusiasm and joy despite the sadness surrounding her. Of Rodrigue and Manuela's easy smiles and warmth.

They were all so broken by everything, he thought desperately, yet they still tried.

Just like him.

Part of him wanted to do what Felix wanted him to do, run off to Garreg Mach, see what it was the young man wanted him to see, find out all he could. But he simply couldn't leave them behind. Not like that. Not if he could somehow help them just a tiny bit.

" _You get attached to people far too easily, my love,_ " Yubel sighed.

"I know," he mumbled out loud.

There was a silence in his soul, as he kept watching Ingrid tear into Sylvain, who looked like he was asking Felix for help. Felix, of course, wasn't doing anything, clearly finding it enough that he didn't have Ingrid's ire turned on him.

" _Please don't hurt yourself,_ " Yubel ended up pleading, " _you can't save everyone, sometimes._ "

"I know," he repeated.

It didn't mean he couldn't try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heavily HC Dimitri as having two phobias. Fire due to what happened in Duscur, and post-ts, Claustrophobia due to the time he was imprisoned by Cornelia. I've always felt like it was the reason he stayed in the Cathedral at first: it's a big, open space, but he's still protected from rain and wind. I figured it made sense.  
> Also I feel like I'm having Judai flashbacking a lot but it kind of made sense to me that the situation would be highly traumatic to him. He'll get better, if you can call 'getting used to horror' getting better. But it's gonna be slow. Welp, I do like calling this game "Fire Emblem: Self Loathing and Trauma Edition" so it's not that surprising in the end. BTW I'm kind of picturing Judai as a Mortal Savant, which is why he dislikes Faerghus's swords x) He needs a good old-fashioned Japanese sword.  
> I hesitated so much as to who would be the Golden Deer's dancer that I went with the idea of whoever it was teaching the whole class afterwards x) And I chose Flayn as the representative because she was the one I chose the first time!  
> Finally, the part about the fur coats in Ailell. With how much both Golden Deers and Black Eagles complained about the heat (did I ever mention that AM was my last route? Because it was.) I was waiting for the fur-wearing-people-used-to-the-cold to simply faint in that volcano (as they do in the sauna, seriously, take Felix or Dimitri with you, it's far too easy to make them pass out from the heat) and was very disappointed when their reaction was almost milder than those of the other classes x) so I picked a bit of fun at it here.


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life with the Golden Deer is hectic. Nightmares, an underground city, and Flay'ns kidnapping definitely don't make it easier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, another Felix flashback chapter? Woops. Well I'm not going to pretend the chapters are equally reparted, you can have a lot of a character for a while and then said character'll disappear as a pov one for ten chapters. That's just how it is. Also another fight scene??? ... this one was so hard to write it ended up lasting barely one Word page, I hope no one is disappointed.
> 
> By the way I want to take that moment to sincerely thank my friend CielleSeiya who is honestly 90% of why I'm writing this, she pushed me and encouraged me so much when I started, until I found my groove, that it motivated me enough to write enough to feel like I had a chance of finishing it. And since Ferdinand is her favourite, I wanted him to be important in a few chapters, so this is one of them!
> 
> Also, as you're going to discover in this chapter, I really enjoyed the DLC! Especially a certain Pastel Goth Bird who is going to make quite a few appearances from now on! I hope you'll enjoy it!

**Chapter 8**

_I'm a wildfire you won't tame_

_Igniting my temper, can't put out my flame_

_There's no way to contain_

_This storm swelling inside me_

**16th Day of the Horsebow Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

**Felix**

It had been two weeks since transferring, and Felix was already getting used to his new timetable. It wasn't all that complicated. Waking up at the edge of dawn, rushing to breakfast so he'd be there when only the other quiet morning birds like Marianne were, going to the training grounds for basic exercises, going to class with professor Eisner, doing whatever chore he was instructed to as soon as it was over. This way he'd be done when the other students were doing their own and he could spend most of the rest of the day training with whoever was lucky enough to be there with him.

These days, it was mostly whichever Golden Deer he was paired up with. Leonie was a good sport and a good opponent, fighting her was always a pleasure, but she was rough around the edges and needed refining. Ignatz was terrible at close combat, but he was quick and agile so with a few more pointers, he'd probably be good enough to stand his ground when he couldn’t fight from a distance. His aim was amazing both with a bow and magic, so it wasn’t like Felix could help there. Raphael was strong and nothing could keep him down, he was also enthusiastic about training and Felix would probably enjoy fighting him more if he wasn't always so _noisy_ and ready to force-feed him. The blonde giant apparently felt like Felix looked famished, which was almost offending to him. Not everyone had Ingrid's metabolism, but Felix ate enough, thank you very much. Then there was Lorenz, who couldn't stand humiliation or constant criticism, but could still be a decent partner when you disconnected your brain enough to ignore everything he was saying. Hilda had managed to weasel her way out of sparring with him every single time, but Lysithea and Marianne had followed him, to his surprise, and even showed enough basics that he knew they wouldn't die easily if someone silenced them while they wore a weapon. Marianne's face when he had complimented her form was shocked and she had looked about to cry, he'd wondered why. Lysithea's face had been smug even before he'd begrudgingly complimented her, looking like she already knew she had done well. The horrified way she had looked when he'd casually mentioned that she might become his preferred sparring partner had almost made him smirk at the time. Even if she had a good technique, she lacked the endurance and much preferred her dear books, and it showed. And Claude, of course. He hadn't gotten to fight him again since their training to fight Miklan, but he was burning to.

But when the Deers were busy, it left the Eagles, whose class hours depended on Manuela's disponibilities, to train with him. Mostly Petra and Ferdinand, to be honest. Petra was great, but she had no endurance. She mostly relied on a quick, decisive style that was quite deadly, but couldn't work on everyone every time. Her relentless and fast style took the opponent by surprise, allowing an easy, free win. But either she managed to get to him quickly, or it was a victory for him, no matter how long she stalled. Felix wasn’t sure how he felt about the princess of another country clearly training to be an assassin, but it wasn’t like anyone would ask him. He did suggest she try the axe as a back-up option, once, to see if she liked it, and she had looked very interested. As for Von Aegir...

Okay, so, he would never admit it out loud, but Von Aegir was great. Just great. He didn't use the sword much, which was a bit of a disappointment to Felix at first, but not only was he good with the lance, he had _actually_ decided to try his hand at the sword and was actually decent. But mostly, Ferdinand von Aegir simply did not give up. He took the criticism, stood up with a daring smirk, and tried again, again, again, until both their bodies were screaming for peace or he actually succeeded in what he was trying to do.

"It makes it all worth it," the red-headed teen had said once with a gracious smile, "when I do something well, it makes everything worth it."

And that was a philosophy Felix definitely liked. He probably had smirked a little then, because Von Aegir couldn't be perfect and had to notice.

"That's the smile. When you make it, even for one second, or just a twitch, then I know, even if I doubted myself, that I did it right! You're a great sparring partner, Felix!"

Ferdinand Von Aegir had laughed afterwards, almost embarrassed to admit that he wasn't always sure when he had done something right. As if they hadn't all mostly learnt through trial and error. Felix had shrugged, promising himself to work on his facial expressions in battle. You didn't want the opponent to notice when something made you happy after all, if you wanted the advantage of surprise.

He hadn't had as much luck sparring with the other Eagles, though. To Caspar's great disappointment. The Bergliez boy kept trying to find a way to fight him and kept getting stopped by an obligation or another. It was kind of ironic for the other person who used the training grounds the most to be the one Felix had the hardest time finding a moment to fight.

Well, not that Caspar was the only one other than Felix to make extensive use of the place, but the third person who was here the most...

No, Felix wasn't _avoiding him_. He just... liked it better when he wasn't there to watch, with these inquisitive fake puppy eyes. So since he knew his hours so well, Felix knew mostly when to not go to the training grounds. That was why he was always hurrying his chores after all. And no, that didn't count as avoiding. The fact that he hadn't seen Sylvain or Ingrid there either since was also simple dumb luck and had nothing to do with him knowing they'd be at the stables at the time, either for chores or for training.

Just dumb luck. Not dumb guilt or anything. What would he have to feel guilty for?

The moon was pretty high in the sky, he thought as he put away the training weapons he was using, it was time for him to go. Take a bath. Go to sleep. Claude had noted the bags under his eyes, a few days ago. Felix had growled that it wasn't his business. As if he hadn't been losing sleep over... Over what exactly?

He wasn't exactly sure what it was.

There had been dreams about Sylvain. The kind he had been having for a while already, and that should have been more pleasant but ended up with him awake, feeling miserable and recalling everything he would never have. But these, he was used to. They were not that bad, most of the time. No, what was keeping him awake was the nightmares, and that was what he couldn’t figure out.

Of all of them, the only nightmare he seemed to remember was the Boar's smiling face, covered in blood. His laughter, mad and haunting. The voice inside his heart whimpering pitifully. Telling him to run instead of fight, for once.

He would wake up, swallowing a shout against his fist, cold sweats running all along his body, his gut feeling sick. He was never able to fall to sleep again once he remembered he shared a wall with the one who had killed his best friend and taken his place.

It had happened a lot these last days, he wasn't sure why. But he couldn't have Claude putting his nose in his business, so he needed to get to sleep, no matter how little he wanted to. Not that Claude had much time to notice anything recently, he and the professor hadn't been there for the last days. It was the same with Hilda, truth being said. Lady Rhea had actually graced them with her presence, telling them not to worry, that their classmates would be back soon. It wasn't just them either. Ashe and the Boar, as well as two members of the Black Eagles were apparently with them...

Felix left the training grounds, wondering slightly where they had gone with no notice, and glanced at the moon again. Yep, very high. Must have been past midnight. Ingrid would nag at him if she saw him.

Not that she would, of course.

"Felix!"

The scream startled him, coming from behind, not that far from the Cathedral. He stood with a scowl, ready to defend himself against anyone who'd tell him off for the hours he kept. But there was no reproach coming, just a pink ball stumbling to him, eyes open wide. Hilda? What was she...

"Felix!" She screamed again. "Professor Manuela! Do you know where professor Manuela is?"

"In... her office?" he guessed. "Or maybe her bedroom? It's kind of..."

"Right!" she squealed. "It's after midnight! Her office. Her office. Guys! Bring them to Professor Manuela's office, I'll find her and bring her there!"

She ran off without another word and Felix whirled around to see who she had just been talking to. If he wasn't sore enough from his training to know he was awake, he would have thought the sight welcoming him to be some kind of weird dream.

There they were, their missing students and professor. Half carrying a bunch of people he had never seen, or if he had, didn't recognize in the moonlight.

At the head of the group, he found Claude, holding up a pale young man. Said man was walking, or more like stumbling along. He couldn't see much from where he was, but he looked half dead, Felix noted in alarm.

"Moving!" Claude exclaimed, following Hilda with intent.

Felix moved. Without really thinking, he went to Dimitri, who was holding up a mountain of a man and seemed bothered not by his weight, but by his height. He took his other arm on his shoulders, lending a hand.

"What happened?" he hissed at the Boar.

Dimitri didn't answer, looking frazzled. His eyes were wild and his uniform was torn. He didn't look all there, more like he was following Claude's lead not to cede to whatever demon was eating at him.

Feeling his stomach drop, Felix looked around. Edelgard was helping a young woman up, and the professor, behind the others, another one. Ashe and Linhardt were the last two, and Ashe was actually carrying Linhardt, not just helping him up like the others were. The young healer seemed unconscious. Ashe was shaking.

Swallowing, Felix moved faster, forcing the Boar to pick up the pace as they went up the stairs, reaching Manuela's office.

Claude was already there, helping the man he was carrying on a chair. The candlelight helped seeing the clothes Claude was currently helping him get out of, drenched with blood. Felix almost let go of the man he was holding up when he saw the gash, long and bloody, that was on the young man's back.

He and Dimitri let the man they were holding slid to the ground, barely slowing down his descent. He let out a stunned 'oof' and thanked them with a winning smile despite how pale he looked. Felix swore quietly as Ashe entered the room. Linhardt didn't seem wounded, just exhausted, he was even conscious again, dazed, but conscious, so as soon as Ashe had helped him down, Felix pulled on the archer's shoulder.

"Ashe," he hissed, "what in the Goddess' name is going on?"

Ashe jumped, looking at the room, staring for a second at the pale man Claude was still talking to, and the bleeding wound on his back. Someone was running towards here, and Felix recognized Manuela's voice, muttering swear words. He dragged Ashe outside the moment it seemed obvious there were going to be far too many of them inside the small office. Manuela was already scowling at them for not bringing them to the infirmary instead. Claude was laughing and apologizing, his joy sounding far more tired than it usually did, revealing it as what it really was: a lie.

"It's a long story," Ashe started, fumbling in his words, clearly not sure of what he was supposed to reveal and what needed to be kept quiet.

What he did tell Felix was hard to believe. An underground city for those who couldn't live their lives freely above anymore? A chalice that could bring anyone back to life? The disappeared apostle crests, back into the world? Professor Eisner's mother? And the man who tried to use the chalice, turned into a gigantic beast, not unlike Miklan but so, _so_ much bigger and scarier?

Felix had no idea how they had survived, especially with four of their fighters already so deeply wounded. Apparently, lady Rhea had been with them, and had helped them. She and professor Byleth had done most of the work. He didn’t even know the Archbishop could fight, but in itself, that was far from the most surprising event of tonight. She had stayed behind, to survey the damage made by the demonic beast and make sure its dark magic would not poison the air. She had also told them to hurry and find someone to save the four wounded, since they had apparently been _half-drained of their blood_?! Half of him wanted to scream at them, about how it could be that they had needed the Archbishop to tell them that. But with how shocked everyone in the office still looked, the reason was quite obvious. He couldn’t be sure of how he would have acted in such a situation himself...

As he looked at Manuela, who was turning the atrocious wound onto the young man's back into a simple dark scar, he wondered just how bloody the scene must have been. That explained just how queasy Linhardt looked, even as Hilda gave him tea to help him cheer up.

The Boar seemed strangely calm, despite the situation. Felix had expected him to have that wild look upon his face, that he had seen the few times he had been involved in a fight with the other Blue Lions. Instead, the panic he had seen in the beast when they had met outside the training grounds had melted into concern, his big, empathic eyes taking in the room, as if to make sure that they were all safe and sound. It was eerily familiar and Felix dragged his eyes away to look at Claude instead.

Claude was talking to the red-haired girl the professor had been helping walk earlier. She looked weak, but her face, scrunched up in annoyance, was a sure sign that she was feeling better. The young man Claude had been helping, now healed, leaned down towards them, a smile gracing his lips, and added something in what sounded like a joking tone. Likely noticing Felix's stare, he glanced at him and, after a small, appraising look, winked.

Felix felt himself flush. He scoffed and turned away, refusing to indulge the man.

He had never been one to search for beauty in other people, if he had to be honest. But one would have had to be blind not to notice exactly how gorgeous the other was, even in the darkness of the room. However, Felix didn’t care much about that. The flustering thing had been the wink.

It had been fake. As fake as all the ones Sylvain liked sending other people.

He didn't remember Sylvain ever sending him one...

Now was not the time to think about that. No one was paying him any attention and he was pretty sure he wasn't needed, both as someone who wasn't involved in what had happened and as a non-healer. Plus, Claude would probably tell them everything once he had a good night's sleep.

A good night Felix had been planning to have too and wouldn't anymore. With an annoyed scoff, he turned around, ready to leave.

"Felix!"

The Boar's voice stopped him in his tracks, painfully eager. He looked back, hoping the annoyance was obvious on his face. Obvious or not, it did nothing to change the hopeful, warm smile the blonde prince was sending him.

"Thank you for your help," he said formally, "it was much appreciated."

In Felix's head, his smile twisted, insane and bloodthirsty as a mad glint shone in his eyes. And he was laughing and laughing and Felix was watching, frozen, the monster that had elected its home inside his friend's body, moving as if it belonged to him.

Felix turned away with another scoff and left.

He didn't sleep either that night. Thankfully, the following day, Claude and Hilda's eyebags looked bigger than his. Busy as the students were, questioning their leader on what he had been doing, no one asked him anything.

Despite going through the same ordeal her students had, professor Eisner looked fresh as a spring breeze and didn't care much about slowing down when she called them out for practice. Today would be axe drills, she was saying firmly and Felix had never been very good with an axe, but it was still better than the lance. Sylvain and Annette had shown him a few things, a lifetime ago.

They went one after the other, first Claude, whose grip was steady on the weapon, his moves fluid and efficient, as familiar as if he had been born with one in his hand. It wasn't as natural as he was with a bow and his feet placement could use some work (it was pretty weird, almost as if he wasn't used to move them when fighting) but he had experience, clearly. Byleth mostly praised him, though she then bluntly told him that he was clearly much better at throwing things than keeping them close. Felix smirked and he heard Leonie snickering in her hand. Lorenz had a small laugh too, not as discrete. Byleth turned towards him.

"Since you seem convinced you could do better," she called him, "come here and show us."

The young man turned pale.

As was pretty obvious, Lorenz was good with a lance and a decent mage, but not much of an axe fighter. Claude joined Felix, watching with a silent smile as the teenager saw his stance corrected every two steps. The professor made sure he'd leave the field with his chin high, though. It was nice of her to give him confidence, but Felix sincerely hoped she wouldn't do the same for him. He'd rather have criticism telling him exactly what he did wrong than some kind of coddling. Raphael and Leonie went after him, each getting stern advice, but also small smiles as she told them exactly what they did right too and okay, maybe it wasn't a bad way to teach.

Hilda was next. She was pouting and whining, complaining about how hard it was and how a delicate flower like her could never do what their teacher was asking of her. Training axe in hand, she started the exercise.

And Felix's mouth almost dropped. He watched her, torn between amazement and annoyance, before turning to Claude. A similar expression, though marred with disappointment, was on his face.

"She isn't even trying," the leader of the Golden Deer sighed, "and yet..."

Hilda finished the exercise and then turned to the teacher with a mutinous face, triumph almost present in her eyes.

"You see!" she exclaimed. "Nothing to salvage!"

A silence followed her declaration. Byleth had the usual empty stare she tended to favour, but some kind of sad smile was twisting the left corner of her lips. She turned to her class.

"So, class. How was Hilda's performance, right now?"

A silence for a second, and then Ignatz, small Ignatz with his shy voice, stuttered a few words.

"It, huh... It seemed very good to me."

"Not just very good," Byleth said solemnly, "this was perfect axe form. Raphael, did you see how she avoided the pitfalls I warned you about?"

The enthusiastic brawler nodded happily and congratulated Hilda with a booming laugh, either not noticing or ignoring the look she was giving their teacher.

A look that was nothing but sheer horror.

She didn't want to be good.

Why didn't she want to be good? She was at the officer's academy, whoever went there had to wish they’d become good. And Hilda wasn't just good. She was fantastic with that axe. Even Claude, who clearly had known how to handle one for a long time, didn't come anywhere close to the mastery she had just demonstrated. And _she wasn't even trying_. No, she thought what she had just done was bad, because for her standards, it was bad.

With such talent, why didn't she want to be good?

What a waste that was.

He looked at Claude's face, seeing that disappointment again.

"You're going to talk to her?" he asked.

"No," Claude answered after a few seconds, "with what the issue seems to be, I think you'd get through her more successfully than me."

Felix had no idea what he meant. The thought seemed weird, why exactly would he be the right person to convince Hilda Goneril to actually work?

He was still wondering about the strange things that seemed to go through the house leader's head while training, later, Ferdinand Von Aegir happy to join him as always. There was something pleasant about exorcising haunting thoughts through his blade, whether they be about blood and laughter, red hair and smiles, or enigmatic teenage boys. Felix might not admit easily to Ferdinand how grateful he was for his eagerness.

"One more," he ordered as Ferdinand laid on the ground after a well placed trip on his part. The nobleman smiled, standing up with a wince, but already placing himself in front him again. Felix felt like his body was burning. He needed more. He hadn't slept and yet he was _burning_ , as if he still had too much energy.

The doors to the training grounds opened wide right as they were about to start their fight. They gave the newcomer a customary glance, as they usually did before going back to their business. And then they froze in unisson.

Bernadetta Varley.

Felix heard Ferdinand gasp and his own grip on his blade faltered in shock. The young girl looked panicked, which wasn't new, but what was she going here? Seeing them on the grounds, she jumped and muttered away, turning from them as if it'd stop them from hearing her.

"Oh no," she was pleading, "I was hoping there'd be no one here when I volunteered, but now there are two and they look so scary and I bothered them, I know, I should stand in the shadow so they forget about me..."

"Bernadetta?" Ferdinand said, lowering his lance, looking hurt by how she called him _scary_ (Felix understood, what exactly was scary about a puppy in human form like him?). "Is everything alright?"

"Eeeek!" She jumped, scrambling back. "Yes! Everything's fine, I'm sorry to have bothered you!"

Less than a second after, though, she frowned and jumped again, startled and horrified.

"No! Everything is not fine! It's terrible!"

"Terrible?" Ferdinand said softly, a hand raised peacefully between them as Felix rolled his eyes, wondering what kind of inane issue she was probably talking about.

"It is!" she exclaimed, holding herself and closing her eyes as if she believed they'd hurt her for what she was going to say next. "Flayn has gone missing!"

The world froze.

It wasn't just time that seemed to stop, no. It was that the air became colder suddenly. The Verdant Rain Moon was over, sure, but the wind shouldn't have been so freezing. Felix stopped his body from shivering as best as he could and stepped forward.

"What do you mean?"

Bernadetta screamed. Ferdinand almost jumped in front of him and Felix wanted to explode in annoyance. The damn girl needed to be able to talk to people who weren't all smiles, for the love of Sothis!

"Bernadetta," the red-head said, infinitely patient, "how did Flayn go missing?"

"I don't know!" She squealed. "Seteth saw her go to sleep yesterday night, but no one saw her at all today and she was nowhere we could think of, and she didn't come eat and now we have no idea where she is!"

"What about Abyss?" Felix asked briskly.

The Ashen Wolves were still in the infirmary but their tale had propagated, and everyone kind of knew of their existence, though they had been asked to politely ignore them. Most of the people down there were so for their own safety after all. Donations, however, were of course always welcome.

Bernadetta shook her head.

"Y-Yuri apparently already asked his men. No one saw her down here. They haven't finished exploring the undergrounds, but they know no one saw her come down there."

Felix had no idea who Yuri was and was even more confused as to how _Bernadetta Varley_ would already know someone from Abyss by name, but that was a question for another day.

"What does that mean?" Ferdinand asked, dismayed, putting his lance away. "She must be somewhere. Where could she have gone like that by herself?"

Not by herself, Felix figured. She had help.

Well.

Probably not help.

"Wasn't there a kidnapping too, last year?" he said, regretfully putting his weapon away too.

He could see, by the look on the other two's faces, that they hadn't wanted to think of that possibility, the idea of such a terrible thing happening to a sweet soul like Flayn too horrifying to think.

Too bad for them. Felix was pretty sure that was what had happened. Didn't mean he enjoyed it.

If anything, he realized as he joined the search effort, his blood was still burning, but differently. He was still itching for a fight, but not in the sense he had been a few hours before with Ferdinand.

He just wanted to slam the face of whoever had done that to Flayn against a nearby wall. Who, by the Saints, could be despicable enough to wish any harm on her? He'd be lying if he said he really cared for her, she was basically part of the furniture here as far as he was concerned, but one thing he had known for sure was that she was harmless, kind, maybe a bit too naive, her dreams big and sweet. He didn't really care for her, no, but everytime he looked at her he remembered, harshly, why creatures like him were needed.

Because otherwise, people like her would suffer.

And now it had happened, right under his nose, and he wanted to _destroy_ the one responsible.

Worst than anything, though, was Seteth's face when they had to give up on the search once it became too dark. He could hear Lady Rhea, telling him that they would find her, but that exhausting themselves in vain would bring nothing good, and while he agreed with her, he saw the haunted look on his features, the anguish and distress.

He barely slept again that night. The dawn seemed to mock him as he rose, ready to start his day of searching around. Claude called for him immediately, saying they had a meeting in two hours and that the knights were already patrolling, they'd organize the search parties again once more of the monastery was awake.

With nothing left to do, Felix's step led him to the training grounds as always. A few people were already here, mostly knights. As nervous as he was, he almost thought about defying them. And as annoying as it was, he knew they'd laugh and call him a kid and make him so angry he'd do something he'd regret. So he settled near Catherine, the only one who didn't act condescending and sometimes accepted challenges, watching her fight Jeritza.

Their sparring was strange.

It was far from being the first time he had seen either of them fight, but while Catherine was quick and efficient as always, there was something erratic in Jeritza's moves. His eyes seemed to glaze over with something Felix didn't understand.

The knights left almost as soon as Catherine and Jeritza had finished sparring, leaving Felix with no partner or answers as to what had seemed so strange.

Claude's meeting came and went, putting a system in place for info and asking to make sure they never went anywhere alone. If a kidnapper was around, then they needed someone to watch their backs. Felix obeyed, because he was right and it was the smart thing to do. The fact that he found himself with Leonie helped, both of them worked similarly enough that they moved quick and well, though he usually left the questioning to her. People could be so annoying sometimes, when you were in a hurry.

All that motivation had vanished into desperation when, by the end of the day, there was still nothing. Lady Rhea regretfully dismissed the students, asking them to try to rest despite the situation.

As if Felix could rest.

He went to the training grounds again, hoping to clear his head. Finding Jeritza there, once again, was a surprise.

"You're not looking for Flayn," Felix said evenly.

The man looked at him with these unreadable, cold eyes. They seemed to be shining, something weird in them, something Felix couldn’t figure out.

"I needed to clear my head," was what he said, as if he had read Felix's mind.

Felix nodded, finding the training sword he favoured. And since he wasn't alone...

"Fight me." he said to the man. Not a question or a request, and maybe his rudeness would get him punished. He was too exhausted to care.

Luckily or not, Jeritza took his challenge gladly.

**Run!**

Felix was sore everywhere.

The sparring match had been brutal, especially for his sleep-deprived body and mind. Jeritza had fought harshly, without any of his usual finesse, inflicting bruise upon bruise. His teeth had been clenched, his eyes needy, elated in a way. Taken by surprise Felix had barely been able to fight back.

He let himself fall on his bed, wondering if it was Flayn's disappearance that had made the usually stoic man so aggressive and frantic, looking almost as if he thirsted for his blood and would take it gladly.

The moment he had disarmed Felix, the voice had screamed.

Not a pitiful whimper, not this time, but surely, Felix had misheard.

It had only been a sparring session after all, why would his instincts, for only the second time of his life despite all the dangerous battles he had been in, scream at him to run?

He turned, remembering how the wooden sword had barely stopped at his neck. Jeritza's ragged breaths as he had seemed to get his bearings again, almost confused by what he had been doing and looking at him with something akin to fear in his eyes. Then he had bowed stiffly and thanked him for the fight before leaving, without even putting his training weapon away.

Only when he had left had Felix felt able to breathe again.

It had been so strange, he thought as he closed his eyes. Everything about that session had been strange.

He was touching upon something, he knew, but he had no chance to figure out what it was before the last days' exhaustion finally caught on him.

When he woke up, it took him a while to understand why he felt so dazed. Dawn had been up quite some time ago. He had overslept. A bruise made him wince as he sat on his bed. Right, Jeritza had hit him there... Immediately, the previous evening came back to his mind.

Swearing, he stood and threw his uniform on before leaving with quick strides. He had to see Claude. Quick, he had to see Claude or professor Eisner and tell them what he had realized.

Claude, of course, had left his room a long time ago. He could already hear the search parties outside, so it wasn't surprising. Only the lazy bums were still in their bedrooms. Them and those who took a long time preparing themselves for the morning.

"Felix? What are you doing here so late?"

Like one Ferdinand von Aegir, who had just left his room with carefully styled eyebrows, and was looking at him with surprise.

"Do you know where Claude or the professors are?" Felix asked immediately.

Ferdinand blinked, but his eyes quickly turned focused, serious.

"Professor Manuela should be in the infirmary and I believe professor Hanneman chose to stay in his office so we'd find him more easily. He hurt his back yesterday, worked himself too hard as he searched."

That was on the other side of the monastery, both of them. Felix gritted his teeth and nodded, leaving, almost ready to break into a run.

"What did you find out?" Ferdinand said, going after him immediately. Felix didn't mind, if it really was what he thought, he might need back-up.

"Just a hunch. Jeritza has been acting weird."

"Professor Jeritza? No way... Are you sure?"

"His fighting style has been more erratic and unsure since Flayn disappeared."

"Maybe it's her disappearance that rattled him?"

"I don't think so." I'm almost sure he wanted to kill me yesterday, he didn't say. But that was still there, very present in his head.

"I could try to interrogate him?" Ferdinand suggested.

"That's what I want the professors for," he gritted, "he'll have to answer them. Not us."

"Fair enough. Where do you think he is?"

"At that time, probably sparring with Catherine."

At least that was what he thought until he saw Catherine, near the training grounds, talking with Claude. No Jeritza in sight, but at least Claude was here.

"Von Riegan," he yelled at him, "where is the professor?"

"Slow down there, boys," Catherine stopped him, "what do you need?"

No reason not to be blunt.

"Jeritza is suspicious," he blurted out with no hesitation, the moment he had reached them.

Catherine raised an eyebrow and turned to Claude. The teenager nodded, looking confused, but almost amused.

"That's what your friend here was telling me too. Let me say I've heard people dare tell me things about Shamir that I won't repeat or I might just up and murder them right there. So what makes you think one of the monastery's staff members is suspicious? It better be a good point."

"You must have noticed," Felix hissed, "he was sparring against you yesterday. Haven't you realized just how frantic he was? That's not like him."

"It could have been Flayn's disappearance."

"You know it's not that."

His eyes refused to meet Catherine's, staring stubbornly at her chin. The woman pressed her lips firmly before turning to Claude once again.

"No one has seen him today," Claude said calmly, "that was my argument. Also the fact that he never takes off his mask bothers me but hey, that's just me."

Catherine crossed her arms.

"I see what you mean," she said, "and you're right, boy, it can't be Flayn's disappearance. In fact, Jeritza's fighting style has been weird since the morning before she disappeared."

Felix's heart seemed to jump in his chest, almost like triumph. Triumph and fear at the same time. That was confirmation, as far as he was concerned. He had known, at the time, he had known what he was about to do...

"I'll inform the knights," Catherine said, "you can go warn your teachers, but don't do anything reckless."

Ferdinand was somber. They were walking quickly through the monastery, hoping to get to Hanneman's office soon enough. The young man looked as if he couldn't really believe one of the staff members could be involved. But it made an awful lot of sense, not even the students had access to Flayn's room. If she had been abducted in her sleep, surely only someone on at least a staff member's level could have managed to do so.

In any case, the red-haired boy was so busy looking at his feet, he didn't have time to notice the figure that bumped into him. Felix and Claude didn’t have time to warn him either. The two crashed, interrupting Felix and Claude in their walk. Ferdinand yelped, the woman fell disgracefully before anyone had time to catch her.

"Ferdie!" she exclaimed, her curtain of brown hair falling into her eyes before she pushed them away. "Look where you're going, please!"

"Ah!" the young man said in dismay, helping her up sheepishly, "my apologies Dorothea. Are you alright?"

Dorothea Arnault, the beautiful gold digger he honestly wasn't even fond of ever since she had approached him during their first days, dusted herself, looking at them with poised annoyance.

"Where were you going in such a hurry?"

"The professors," Claude said without his usual winning smile, "we need to talk to them. We may have news about Flayn."

Dorothea gasped. And then crossed her arms, eyes focused, but posture frustrated.

"Well, you won't find Manuela. I just saw her running out of her office. No idea where she went."

She tilted her head, thinking.

"She was clutching something in her hand," she added, "it was white, but I don't know what it was."

Claude swore and Felix almost startled. The sound was aggressive, angry. His features looked more somber than Felix remembered ever seeing them. Ferdinand and Dorothea looked shocked as they turned to him. Claude von Riegan could _get angry_? Felix didn’t know why he thought it was that unbelievable. There wasn’t even any rage on Claude’s face, but the frustration and the anger were still new. What had he just...

"Jeritza's mask," Claude said when he saw their faces, "we need Teach. Yesterday. And if we can find any back-up, that'd be great."

Felix swore, more discreetly.

Professor Manuela was in trouble.

It fortunately didn't take them long to find professor Eisner, since she was running in the same direction they were, towards Jeritza's quarters. She had Lysithea and most of the Golden Deer with her too, which was relieving. Seeing them, she let out a small smile, likely glad that they had reached the same conclusions she had, and so she just nodded before opening Jeritza’s quarters.

What happened next was a blur. Manuela was there, deeply wounded and unconscious. Claude was tasked to get some healers as they stayed here, guarding her. And then, they found the secret passage.

Felix had no idea why exactly, but he hated the idea of going there without Claude. Yet they had no choice. Professor Eisner told Lorenz to stay behind, watching over Manuela, while Marianne went with them in case they found Flayn.

And find Flayn they did, along with a few dozen mysterious soldiers and one big, dark knight whose bloodlust felt terribly familiar.

The moment she saw the dark armor, Lysithea swore, by his side, eyes glowing with fury and the wish for blood. That man's blood. He had no idea why, he could only wish for his death too, but there was something about how she was glaring that said that for her, it was more. It was _personal_.

They separated on the professor's order the moment the soldiers tried to escape. Ferdinand and Dorothea, more used to fighting with each other instead of the Deers, rushed through the underground paths together, with Leonie on their heels. Ignatz was with Hilda, eliminating whoever came at them, Marianne with the professor as she went against the knight to rescue Flayn. Felix found himself with Lysithea, about to follow the two of them.

The small girl looked absolutely furious. While she had always been the frowny kind, Felix was forced again to realize that this was something else. This was pure, unadulterated rage. Seriously, what had this knight - Jeritza it had to be Jeritza - done to her?

"Keep calm," he growled at her anyway.

"I'm perfectly calm," she answered icily, "but I'm going to kill them."

Attagirl. Was it what he had looked like when they were fighting Miklan? He wasn’t surprised that Claude had kept his back, then. She looked like she was going to get herself killed. And then, some black-clad mages got between them and the professor.

Lysithea was a magic powerhouse.

Sure, in less than three weeks he had already noticed that fact, but that didn't change how frighteningly awesome seeing her turn magic spells into a violent art form up close was. As busy as he was turning his sword red with the blood of those who had kidnapped Flayn, he mostly stayed behind her, guarding her from any who'd like to approach. With how critical the situation was and how she was decimating the enemy all on her own, watching her back seemed like the best option. It didn't stop his hands from itching to go on ahead by himself as he was so used to, but he had to fight smart. Running ahead by himself in unknown territory would bring nothing good.

“Seriously,” he grunted as he pushed back a brawler, his sword finding his guts and slashing through them, “did this knight do something to you, personally?”

“Oh, yes,” Lysithea hissed, miasma washing over an armored enemy, “he _looked down_ on me.”

“... What?”

“During the Goddess’ rite of rebirth,” she gritted out, “he was there when the Western Church attacked the holy mausoleum. He slashed right past us when we tried to talk to him. And he called us… me…”

She growled, two enemies fell to her Banshee spell.

“Pitiful,” she spat, “weak. Useless, little children with no value. He didn’t even look twice at us, we were just… transparent to him.”

Another enemy down, black magic swarming at her until nothing was left. Well that was brutal. Lysithea was shaking with anger, her whole expression twisted with absolute fury.

“I exist,” she seethed, “I exist and I matter and I trained hard, and I’m going to make him _regret_ ever underestimating me.”

At that moment, a scream called both of their attention. Marianne. With barely a glance at each other to make sure the other followed, he and Lysithea turned, running to where the professor had been fighting the knight.

Marianne was on the ground, cradling a bloody arm and looking terrified out of her mind. The professor was standing in front of her, teeth gritted at the knight, but she looked hurt too, her leg bleeding. Felix growled, knowing he had a reach disadvantage, but ready to fight anyway.

He didn't get time to react before Lysithea threw caution to the wind.

The small girl, with a howl of rage, rushed ahead. He swore, going after her but knowing he might not get there on time. She raised her arms and dark, threatening spikes appeared in the air, flying towards the knight.

They pierced right through him and threw him to the ground. He stayed there, a guttural, painful growl keeping him down.

Felix froze. At the corner of his eye, he saw the professor do the same.

Lysithea stood, looking at her defeated enemy with a wobble in her legs, but a pretty satisfied smirk on her face.

That decided it, he figured, he'd at least try to figure out the basics of Reason magic. No matter how much he hated the idea.

Once again, everything else after that happened far too fast and he would have been hard-pressed to explain all that had been going on to someone. All in all, he remembered helping Marianne on her feet and bandaging her arm, he remembered the ominous red figure that appeared briefly, he remembered Claude's terrified screams as he joined them, wondering why in all that was holy they didn't wait for the back-up and healers he was bringing. He remembered feeling exhausted but fine, incredibly fine as they were told all three girls - Flayn, Manuela and... Monica? A girl from last year? Well that was a surprise… A good one he supposed? - would be okay.

In truth, the world only really came back to him during the calm, right after the storm, when Lady Rhea, after expressing worry at how these people had infiltrated the monastery, thanked them profusely for their help and then told them that because of all that agitation and as a reward for their work, their monthly task had been cancelled.

Felix was exhausted, barely holding himself up and his classmates were mostly much the same, Claude looking at them all with barely concealed worry and a smile that didn't even pretend to be true. Maybe it was that exhaustion that explained how all he was able to say, when hearing that, was a dumbfounded and maybe a bit offended "What?!".

The class burst out laughing, like he had just broken some invisible tension with his wish to fight, despite what they had just gone through. They teased him, of course. They laughed, calling him a workaholic with a bit of fondness. He crossed his arms and huffed. But the way they all hugged each other, congratulated, almost fell asleep just holding one another, happy to be alive and to have rescued the girls… Even Ferdinand and Dorothea were part of the group hug, Felix tried to avoid it, but the professor embraced him, and then Claude did the same, without leaving him time to protest.

“Shut the hell up and let us be happy that everyone is alive,” his leader smiled when Felix tried to push him away, “you included.”

Him included. Felix didn't remember a time people had expressed such joy at him being alive. It usually was a bit of relief, yes, but mostly he saw wistfulness, there, as if seeing him alive was a reminder that _someone else_ wasn’t. Maybe it was just something in his head, a feeling of inadequacy he wasn’t sure he’d ever get rid of. But here, there was none of that, he was sure of it, because no one _knew_ , no one _could_ think of someone else when they saw him.

But more than that, he looked at Seteth's joy and relief, crying actual tears as his sister was returned to him, as safe as she could be. Felix watched him cry, not sure what he was feeling at the time. He was glad, he supposed? Siblings shouldn’t have to fear the other’s death as Seteth had for the past days...

When they were released for the day and went their separate ways, he went to his room. For the first time in a long while, he wanted to write his father a letter.

They were all dead on their feet when the next day's lessons came. Except for the professor of course, and Felix was doubting her humanity more and more with time, though he found it strangely admirable. How he wished to have her stamina...

The professor's stamina, though, could also be explained by how happy she looked to announce that they had guests today. Which meant that she was mildly smiling and that there was just a bit of a bounce in her steps. In any case, a mostly dead cheer erupted from the class, no one really had the energy to actually show enthusiasm.

When he heard a few gasps of surprise, Felix raised his head from the desk against which he was resting his eyes to look at the guests. Expecting to see knights, or maybe Jeralt's mercenaries, he found himself dumbfounded when Byleth's guests turned out to be four people. The four people from Abyss.

With all that had happened in between, what with Flayn’s kidnapping and everything, he had almost forgotten about them.

It was like life had suddenly come back to the world, as all four were suddenly assaulted with questions. Felix stood up slowly, looking at his classmates' screeching incredulity with confusion. The only ones who had stayed behind were the professor, of course, Marianne, also of course, and Claude, surprisingly. He was smiling at them with a face devoid of surprise, likely already knowing that they were coming before class. Felix didn't really understand why their presence made the others so crazy, to be honest. Sure, he supposed Abyss could sound like a mysterious place, but the only thing he had heard about it that interested him was the fighting arenas. He had made a vow to go there before the end of the year, but he was in no hurry, the tournaments up here already had him busy.

It was only when he heard Lysithea almost scream about how "Constance Von Nuvelle"'s magic inventions were the kind she aspired to that he realized one thing.

These four people were apparently exceptional fighters.

Suddenly the elation made more sense to him and it was mostly out of dignity that he didn't run to them too. He just crossed his arms and watched the others ask their questions, as the big burly man he had helped Dimitri carry talked with Raphael and Hilda. Meanwhile, Lorenz was questioning a blonde lady and Lysithea now gave all of her attention to a red-haired girl who looked as incredibly tired as Felix felt.

The one who garnered the most attention, though, was the beautiful man who had winked at him. Because of course that was what Felix remembered of him, that damn wink. Sylvain’s face came to his mind again and Felix frowned, flustered, trying to focus on the man instead. He was showing them all a smile that showed no politeness, his eyes shrewd, looking at everything as if he was gauging it and calculating.

Felix glanced at Claude. Claude who was staring at the same guy with the exact same smile and calculating stare. Claude who liked winking far too much too...

Great Goddess, there were two of them...

After a few minutes, clearly feeling that her students had asked their fill of questions, professor Eisner clapped her hands, calling for attention. They would be seeing demonstrations of the four’s abilities in the training grounds soon, except for Constance who had asked to show her talents inside for some reason. While the blonde girl wasn't exactly the one who interested him the most, he figured watching her wouldn't be a waste of time, especially if she had an unusual fighting style.

She introduced herself pompously, called herself a Black Pegasus Rider and a siege magic user (then why had she asked to stay inside, he wondered, these two things weren’t the kind you demonstrated _inside_ ) and described some of the spells she had created. Most of those sounded ridiculous at best and useless at worst, but Lysithea was looking at her with stars in her eyes so what did he know?

Then she started beating up a training dummy with her fan and Felix was immediately more invested. When she bowed at the end of her demonstration, the whole class clapped without shame.

"As Lady Rhea granted us the ability to leave with the support of the Church," she chuckled, "I'll only stay here in Garreg Mach for a few more weeks, but if during this time you wish to ask me for the amazing advice I can give you, then do not hesitate, I shall be glad to share my brilliance."

He might only go there as a last resort, though, because he wasn't sure how long he could stand her attitude without destroying something, probably her face or a wall. But she had definitely picked his interest.

As he discovered soon enough, the other three were impressive too. Hapi, the red-haired girl, didn't show anything that interested him personally, but she was surprisingly good with an axe and her dark magic would definitely interest Lysithea. The two men, however, surprised him. One was a brawler and the other a swordsman (good, people who actually had taste), but both used magic.

Faith magic.

He had heard of people using Reason magic to complement sword fighting, that was what he was planning on trying. Lysithea was visibly trying the same thing but the other way around, sword fighting to complement her absolutely phenomenal Reason magic. But Faith magic? That was new.

Felix didn't have much faith. He knew it. His thoughts about the Goddess were mostly neutral. He figured if she existed, her influence on the world was probably minimal at best, but he didn't believe her to be a malevolent creature either. As for the Church, it funded and created the only school that accepted commoners and nobles alike, it was also one of the biggest charities in all of Fodlan, taking in orphans, fugitives and pariahs without caring about where they came from, and it had actively created a safe haven, as terrible as it could be, for condemned people in the form of Abyss. He wasn't stupid enough to think it had no flaws, or that there were no bad people amongst it, but as far as he was concerned, the world would be pretty bleak without it. He however doubted that appreciating the good an institution could do counted as faith and he didn't picture himself as a healer. Aura and Nosferatu were useful spells, he guessed, but would they suit him? Did he have enough faith for them? He had serious doubt about it. Faith didn't need as much studying as Reason did, but the kind of mental strength it asked wasn't the kind of strength he bore...

The four Abyssians tore him from his thoughts as they explained their plans. The brawler and the red-haired girl, just like Constance, would leave at the end of the month, which meant that whoever wanted to ask them for pointers would have to do so quickly. The pretty man, however, mentioned that he was staying. He had a contract, he said, and he winked at Claude. Claude winked back. Felix stared between them, wondering how he was supposed to interpret that. But whatever that wink was about, it meant that Yuri, since that was his name (and how Bernadetta Varley had known he wondered), would now be some kind of honorary Golden Deer student. Good, that’d leave him time to see what he was capable of.

When class was dismissed, Felix didn’t waste any time before going to him. He was speaking with Hapi, the red-haired girl.

"Oh, hey," she welcomed him tiredly, "you're the stray cat."

The what? Felix froze, annoyance already starting to warm up his nose. He glared at her. At her side, Yuri snorted.

"A cat. How fitting. Did you want something, stray cat?"

Well Felix already hated him, what a great start.

"You, me," he growled, "sparring. I want to see what you're worth with a sword."

Yuri laughed, and the sound was unfairly musical. When he tilted his head, it looked both inquisitive and arrogant.

"Do not expect me to only use swords, friend. When you want to reach victory, you use everything at your disposal."

"I'm counting on it," Felix answered, raising his chin.

Hapi rolled her eyes.

"Oh wonderful," she groaned, "a fighting addict meets an adrenaline junkie. You guys are going to make me sigh."

"Absolutely not," Yuri ordered firmly, "no sighing, Hapi. Now, shall we go?"

Felix was lucky.

He took back every single bad thing he said about Yuri, the man was absolutely wonderful. Fighting dirty, using swords, magic and even hidden weapons to take advantage. It was everything he had always wished for. Terrible and exhilarating, new but familiar in a way, it was something he didn’t remember feeling for a while. He was pretty sure he had never left the training grounds feeling as satisfied as he did that evening, Yuri's smirk showing that the feeling was mutual.

That night, he did not dream of the Rebellion. He did not even dream of Sylvain’s smiling face. Instead, his subconscious showed itself slightly more merciful and went back to older demons.

He dreamed of Glenn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sincere question, should I add a Sylvix tag? I'm asking because what have we had for now? Felix pining a bit and not doing anything about it? Is that worth a tag? I don't want to put too many tags, I know it can turn some people off... Maybe I should wait until there's more of it? It's not like I intend to do nothing with this ship, but I want to take my time and as I said in the tags from the very beginning, the ships will mostly stay semi-important, they're not really what the story is about (I can think of only two chapters that focus mostly on shipping that I had planned and there's already been one x) the OT3 one). So I'm wondering, I think it's too early but I might be wrong about that...
> 
> Anyway, on less serious and more rambling author notes, can I mention just how much fun it is to write Felix? And by that I mean that I apparently really love picking at the mountain of issues he has. All the supports where he shows a bit that he feels like he's just chasing after the memory of his brother absolutely killed me, and so did the realization of how traumatizing seeing your best friend crazily slaughtering people during _your very first battle_ must have been :D Such a nice childhood, all of these characters have!
> 
> Also I just had to put a bit of LysDeathKnightSlayerthea here, Lyslaythea for short. I've been trying to have other people kill him in my more recent runs, with Killda, Murdermitri (also known as the Dimistroyer) and Felixnator as the most likely to succeed for the moment (I have a friend who always manages to have Sylvain kill him, which I might try for my next AM run), but it's so funny how she turns that SuperBoss into a joke.
> 
> And now more on the DLC! I _loved_ the DLC's ending, but it's quite obvious why it didn't fit in the game proper, and part of it is the fact that the Wolves leave Garreg Mach at the end, which makes sense, but wouldn't work if you want to recruit them. So I decided to have my cake and eat it too by keeping that ending, but also keeping Yuri here due to the friendship he and Claude strike together. Hapi, Balthus and Yuri will have their moments during the present timeline, but Yuri will be much more present, especially during the flashback chapters!


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain, Judai and Annette are sent on a recon mission and meet an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That chapter is... haha... it's a bit awkward for me to say but when I had written it I had legit forgotten all about the Guardian Moon Siege of Garreg Mach... In my memory it was Chasing Daybreak, and then Ailell. I only realized my mistake when I tried to choose a date, and it implied quite a bit of editing and tweaking stuff to make it just a bit logical that so many things didn't happen or weren't said since the last time we were in the present day. So yeah, instead of a two weeks time skip, there's a one month and two weeks time skip, woops. If anything seems weird to you, you can blame it on me being forgetful x) (gdi I've finished this game how many times? You'd think I'd remember the first post TS month!)  
> But anyway we're starting to get other PoVs during present chapters! And just like for the first flashback chapter, the honour falls to Sylvain!

**Chapter 9**

_Beware, beware, be skeptical_

_Of their smiles, their smiles of plated gold_

_Deceit so natural_

_But a wolf in sheep's clothing is more than a warning_

**12th Day of the Pegasus Moon, Imperial Year 1185**

**Sylvain**

Find information and see if they could free the citizens. Rodrigue had nice ideas, but Sylvain doubted that they would hold up this time.

He had chosen a low risk area. Not only would there be very few soldiers around here, but they knew the citizens there were overwhelmingly supportive of the resistance. Well, as far as Sylvain knew, the citizens of the Dukedom were all overwhelmingly supportive of the resistance, but these ones? They had heard about it directly and knew it to be true.

No, Sylvain doubted the idea would hold up because this place was hard to defend, that was why it had fallen. If they reconquered it, they'd need to hurry and go further, salvage more until they could get a stronghold going, to protect the surrounding places.

And yet, even hours later, all Sylvain could think of, on his horse, was Dimitri's mad ranting, as he told Rodrigue, for the fourth time in one month, that it wasn't this way they should be going, that they needed to go straight to the empire, straight to Enbarr so he could rip Edelgard's head off.

Rodrigue would relent, Sylvain knew. The man's biggest weakness was the same as his biggest strength: his unwavering loyalty to his liege. He would negotiate, discuss, but ultimately accept his commands à law.

But in the meantime, just like they had kept doing for weeks, ever since Dimitri came back, Sylvain had been dispatched, along with Annette and the kid, to survey the area, see if the citizens could be evacuated, and then come back for a report. A report that would, likely, bring nothing as Rodrigue wouldn't risk their troops if they did not intend to keep these positions. And Dimitri would never let them take back their lands in the state he was in.

Felix's eyes, dead and haunted, had just looked at him when Sylvain had, lightly, said that Dimitri seemed a bit unreasonable these days. He had seemed exhausted, but hadn't said a word, he had just left. Without even a nod, right before Sylvain left for a mission. A routine mission, that shouldn’t see too much fighting (there had been a lot of that during the Guardian Moon, Empire troops had suddenly started assaulting them again, forcing their way inside their lands, until they had just… stopped.), but a mission anyway.

Sylvain had pouted, but as Annette and Judai chatterred happily on his side, he was left alone and all he could think of were all these times Felix had mentioned Dimitri being a beast, a boar, a bloodthirsty monster.

Sylvain understood, even if it hurt, why the isolation of the last years, after all the dramatic things that had happened to him, would have turned his old friend insane. The thing that hit him most, though, was to know that as far as Felix was concerned, Dimitri had been this way for almost ten years. And he just was the only one to know.

It still seemed far-fetched to Sylvain, hard to believe. Dimitri was the pure-hearted overly polite mythical creature among their lot of swearing, unrefined hooligans.

And yet, the moment he had burst out laughing, years ago, when Felix had come to their classroom to explain Edelgard's treachery, Sylvain had been as stricken by Dimitri's bout of madness as he had been by Felix's face. First startled, and then slowly, painfully morphing into sad, dead resignation.

Sylvain couldn't remember seeing Felix smile ever since that day.

The small village they reached first was a lovely place, despite the heavy repairs it was currently undergoing. But it was the most unscathed place they had seen in a while! No signs of recent conflict, citizens who looked cautious but mostly living their lives... Sure, even years after its conquest, the war was still showing its mark, but at least the place was _alive_. Sylvain had made sure to wear light armor instead of the black one he favoured, lowering his chances of being recognized. Annette and Judai never looked like soldiers so they didn't run much of a risk of being noticed. Good thing too, unkown soldiers would not be seen as good news here, no matter where they hailed from. Quickly enough, his eyes fell on a lovely woman, carrying a bundle of laundry, her eyes downcast.

"Hey there, ma'am," he greeted her with what he had dubbed his 'seductive voice', "I couldn't help but notice that you're looking down today. Is there anything I could do to help such a lovely face lighten up?"

There was no better way to get info than to question the citizens, after all, and what better way to get into their good graces than compliments and a bit of help?

The woman blushed heavily, stammering a bit before running away.

Sylvain frowned in annoyance. Maybe he had gone on too hard. In these times of war, a handsome man heavily flirting with you might be too unusual to not look suspicious. Either that or she just was very bad with compliments. Behind him, he heard Annette tsk.

"Really, Sylvain? Really? We don't have time for this!"

"What?" he complained with a groan. "When you see someone who looks lovely, you should always tell them. That's basic decency!"

"Really," Judai said with a small sunny smile, "where is my compliment, then?"

The snark was barely noticeable beneath the cheerfulness and Sylvain had walked into this one by himself, hadn't he? Annette laughed.

"Don't waste your time, Sylvain only notices women."

Judai raised an eyebrow.

"Could have fooled me," he mumbled before smirking, "I'm joking anyway. I know I'm not a handsome guy like you."

Sylvain snorted despite himself. Somehow, the kid reminded him of Yuri right now. The amazingly beautiful Yuri Leclair, with his pretty face and deadly eyes, the adoptive son of Count Rowe and someone he...

Count Rowe.

They were ont Count Rowe's lands right now. While it was a fact that Sylvain knew perfectly, he somehow had failed to think of the implications. Sure, Yuri had left Rowe's estate a long time ago, but Sylvain heard something about his family still living here.

"I wonder if he's around here," he muttered.

"Who?"

Sylvain startled. Judai was just on his side, looking at him with these brown, inquisitive eyes. He was so small, harmless-looking, that it made Sylvain's skin crawl. Sylvain hadn’t had to spend too much time with him away from Fraldarius, until now. The kid had mostly stayed home, helping in the kitchen or the infirmary, Felix whipping him back into shape when he had time... It was their first mission together and Sylvain was still gauging, wondering how it'd turn out and not sure he liked the uncertainty.

"Yuri Leclair," Sylvain answered anyway, "I'm just wondering if he's around here. I think he lived not too far from that village."

"Old friend?"

Sylvain simply shrugged, not seeing any reason not to lie.

"More like an acquaintance, but he scares the living shit out of me and I hope I never have to fight him."

Part of it was probably because, contrary to what Annette said, Sylvain could notice men, especially really pretty ones. He wasn't sure anyone who felt attraction could _not_ be attracted to Yuri Leclair, but it didn't change how weird it had felt, at the time, to realize just how deeply he wanted to see a man naked. He had wondered for a while if it was a him thing or a Yuri thing. Even Felix had alluded to finding the man attractive, and he was pretty sure Felix didn't do attraction, except maybe to swords. Had he apologized to them for finding a man sexy?

" _Of course you think he's hot,_ " he remembered his friend scoffing, " _you'd have to be blind not to._ "

And then Sylvain had started finding other men attractive, which had answered the question but probably wasn't the best thing to think about right now, as they were on a potentially dangerous mission. But it still felt safer than looking at Judai's knowing gaze and amused smirk.

Sylvain had no idea what he thought of Judai. It had been a long time he had felt so unable to gauge someone. His cheerful energy looked sincere enough and so did his innocent curiosity, but behind it, he seemed almost dead to the world. The boy would be asking the most inane questions and then make something that sounded like an innuendo. He would have some kind of panic attack that made him retreat inside himself during a war meeting and then smile like a lunatic after getting beaten down by Felix. He would look sick at the idea of killing, but then insist on joining the war effort in battle. His eyes were warm, but once you got past that warmth, they looked dramatically empty, with no light in them most times. And however busy he had been in the last month, nothing had changed that, so it wasn’t just him not being familiar with them yet. No, that fake happiness looked ingrained in him, a perpetual habit, a well-worn mask.

Sylvain had never been good with people who reminded him of himself. He was always watching them, waiting for the moment they'd do something disturbingly cruel, as he knew he was able to. But as he was starting to notice with dismay, he clearly was the only one who felt this way. Not only had lord Rodrigue and Manuela all but adopted him, Annette loved him to death, finally able to talk with someone who matched her enthusiasm, and right now she had stolen his attention once again, asking for his input on something that had happened to her when she went to Fhirdiad's school of Sorcery... Anyway, Mercedes loved him too, though the priestess loved everyone. Felix seemed to like him enough to try to spare him the battlefield and could stand his presence enough to train him when he had time on his hands, Sylvain had even seen them talk after a bout, and Judai had been _smiling_. Sylvain sometimes wondered about his friend's choice of companions, though, so maybe that wasn't such a good thing. However, worst of the worst, Dimitri seemed to tolerate him despite his current state, you could even find Judai staying in the temple with him most of the time, when Felix was away, without Dimitri snarling at him to leave him alone. And to Sylvain’s dismay, after so many weeks and no sign of betrayal on the kid’s part, Ingrid, who had been his biggest ally here, had lost most of the suspicion she used to show him.

Sylvain wondered why exactly all his allies were dumb or optimistic enough to immediately show such faith in a mysterious kid with the shadiest story he had ever heard.

"Where are Rowe's troops?" he blurted out softly, more to distract himself from his thoughts than anything else.

Annette and Judai stopped their conversation.

"Why do you mean?" she asked.

"I haven't seen any soldier since we've arrived, not even at the entrance. None wearing Rowe's colours, none wearing the Dukedom's, none even wearing the Empire's. I don't get it. Where are the soldiers who should be guarding this place?"

"That is strange, indeed..." Annette mutterred as Judai stared at the empty air.

The kid tilted his head, nodded, and then turned to Sylvain.

"Apparently, Rowe's men left a few days ago, they’re gathering forces to march onto Ailell."

What the... How in the Goddess' name would he know about that? But he wasn't done. After staring in the empty air for a few more seconds, Judai added: "The Empire's troops were supposed to arrive yesterday to replace them, but they're late."

"What?" Annette squeaked, incredulous. "How do you know?"

"I'll explain later. There are too many possible witnesses in here."

Right. They were in public. The fact that he wanted them to be isolated didn't feel suspicious at all. Judai smiled sheepishly.

"I just don't want anyone to hear us, but a pub or something like that would be perfect if we have time. Do we have time? I don't think we do, it looks like some troops are arriving, right now, at the front gate."

"That's a terrible distraction," Sylvain started.

"It's not a distraction," Annette squealed, pointing to behind Sylvain, where voices were becoming hushed.

Indeed. As Sylvain had to realize, troops were indeed coming. Late, but still coming. They were wearing Empire colours. What a shame, here he hoped they'd have good news even if they were unusable. Well, no good news coming, he thought distachedly, but the flag seemed familiar. Where had he seen it already? Which house was it? Annette's sharp inhale gave him the answer. And now that he knew there was no way his mind would nicely erase the name of the lord these people belonged to.

"Bergliez," he mumbled, working his brain and moving slightly to the shadows so the troops wouldn't notice him, "what are they doing here? Their lands are on the opposite side of the Empire."

His stomach felt ill, but his chest was lighter, reminding him that as terrible as the idea of fighting Caspar was, he preferred it to fighting Ashe.

"What's going on?" Judai mumbled at that moment. Annette nodded in agreement. Not following, Sylvain followed their gaze to where the citizens were talking to the soldiers, happily, giving them food.

Wait.

Happily?

"I thought people here supported the Resistance?" Annette squeaked. "Were we wrong about that?"

There was something wrong here. Sylvain turned to the other two and thought quickly. If indeed they were wrong about the village supporting the Kingdom instead of the Dukedom, they needed to leave now, no one would stand for them in case they were caught. Evacuating them in case of a reconquest would be more complicated too, without forgetting about the fact that there were a lot more soldiers than would be expected to defend such a tactically useless place.

"We're leaving now," he said, "let's not put ourselves at risk."

Annette nodded. Judai was frowning, staring into the air again, but he followed without discussion.

As they made their leave, though, they were interrupted by guards, all wearing Bergliez colours. Sylvain smiled, pleasantly, trying not to show the anxiety growing inside his gut. He had a lance, but not a good one. They hadn't really expected to encounter any reason to fight except for the occasional bandit or animal attack.

"Are you going to leave, this late?" one guard worried. "It's not exactly safe, out there."

"We kind of need to," Annette smiled tentatively, "we were only visiting relatives. We need to get back home."

Sylvain did his best not to wince. There weren't that many villages around there, it wouldn't take a golden brain to figure they came from the resisting side of the Kingdom .

"Yeah, I get that," the guard said sincerely, "but the Empire is still on the way back from their check-up on the borders. If they find armed Faerghus people around here, they might realize what we're doing and attack the place."

What... was he talking about?

"You're trying to get to the resistance, yeah?" the guard added. "I see that look into your eyes. You want to fight back. But if you can wait until tomorrow, the young lord Bergliez is going to take a retinue and try to contact lord Fraldarius to join him, it'll be much easier to go there this way, don't you agree?"

The young lord Bergliez...

Realization hit Sylvain like a punch in the chest and he felt a smile draw itself on his face without his agreement. Annette understood barely a second later than he did.

"Wait," she whisper-screamed, "Caspar deserted the Empire? How did we not know about that?"

The guard blinked.

"You didn't know?"

"Our communication channels keep being cut, nothing goes to the resistance," Annette said without care and Sylvain winced, because sure, that kind of deception had never been part of Caspar's character, but they couldn't be sure it really was him, "so we didn't know we had allies back here!"

The guards gasped. They looked at each other in shock, one staring at them as if they were seeing actual legends. Judai coughed, looking half lost and half amused.

"You're right in that we're trying to get to the resistance," he said, "but as you probably guessed just now, we're trying to get _back_ there."

"Can we see Caspar?" Annette insisted, eyes sparkling. "Oh, I'm so happy to know that he's on our side. Is he here? Maybe he's in another town..."

"No, no," another guard answered, a young woman with a cute, impish smile, "he is here. But we can't exactly bring anyone to him. You can still see him tomorrow. He might want to see you, though, since you're part of the resistance."

"Oh he will," Annette assured, "tell him that Annette Fantine Dominic wants to see him."

The guards looked at each other again, shock obvious on their faces, so, so obvious, Sylvain kept wincing and wincing. Dominic. Well, Sylvain was happy she didn't share his name. The Gautier house was much more powerful than the Dominic one after all, and while lord Dominic was currently part of the Dukedom, everyone knew his niece had fled to Fraldarius, along with her father, and many suspected that said lord had helped them do so.

"Stay here," a guard said kindly, "we'll go and ask him."

Sylvain smiled back, but his hand was near his weapon, ready to draw. The other guards were now chatting with Annette, a look of wonder decorating their faces. Judai didn't look worried either.

"Looks like you know a lot of important people," he said.

"We do. Maybe that's why I have less faith in them than you do."

Judai smiled at him.

"I probably would be the same, if I was in your situation."

"Oh, and you're not?"

"Not really, no. Because I know they're not lying."

Sylvain had no idea what he meant by that and it was pretty frustrating. He toyed with asking, wondering when exactly he had gone from the teacher to the curious one in their relationship. Before he could decide, the young woman came back soon enough to bring them to Caspar. On the way, Judai turned to Annette, this time.

"So, since you know a lot of important people, did you meet them when you were at Garreg Mach? You did say you were fighting classmates."

"We are," Annette sighed, "I hate it. Some of the people I killed, I remember eating dinner with."

Sylvain knew the feeling. He turned his head away to survey the guard who was walking ahead. Annette kept going.

"But I don't think I'd want to forget that time either? I made so many good friends, there, and we learnt so many things. I remember, back after the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, we had such a great feast. At that time, it didn't matter if you arbored red, blue or golden colours. We were all classmates."

She sighed, a sad sound that was painfully familiar, to the point it didn't even hurt anymore.

"I'll admit, I think that was cruel of the Goddess, to give us such a delightful taste of peace right before someone decided to rip it away from us."

"I doubt the Goddess has much influence on Human actions," Sylvain added, "especially since the Empire wants to get rid of her faith."

"I can concur," Judai said, sad and serious, "we tend to think gods are much more powerful than they really are. They can help, give pushes, heal the land, things like that, and some may be worth worship, but they aren't omniscient nor omnipotent and they have no influence on people's thoughts and acts."

Annette stopped for a second, staring at him in surprise, mouth open.

"What?" he asked sheepishly. "Was that blasphematory? Ingrid doesn't like when I say these things."

"Huh?" Annette said, startled out of her shock. "Well, no... I mean... I suppose some extremists might say it was, but everyone has different interpretations of what the Goddess can and cannot do, even in the Church itself. No, it just... You talked as if you actually knew some. Gods, I mean."

Well Dimitri had found him in a holy tomb, similar to the Goddess'. Sylvain swallowed, fear and wonder battling inside him, wondering not for the first time if it wasn't someone holy his old friend had woken up, but some _thing_.

"In any case," Judai smiled, "it sounded like a wonderful place."

"It had its flaws," Sylvain said bitterly.

"I don't doubt it, my Academia too, had things I hated about it. I still wouldn't want to forget about my time there for any reason."

"You went to school?" Annette exclaimed, looking almost more shocked than when they had learnt about Caspar being here and betraying the Empire.

"Why does it seem so weird? Do I look dumb or something?"

Annette laughed and Sylvain's smile turned genuinely amused for a second at his mock-offense.

"You must have had money," he simply said, "schools aren't open to everyone."

"Maybe they're not now. Back in my time they held exams to see if you were apt to enter a school. Money was still an issue, but if your results were particularly good, you could get help with that."

"Huh, that's an interesting prospect," Annette said pensively, "but if you don't have the money to get an education first, how would you get good grades during an exam?"

"Good question, I never had good grades. I entered through strength of will, I guess? I'm pretty sure I flubbed my written exam. But my practical results were good enough so, heh, you know."

Which meant that he had indeed had money, Sylvain noted, since he wouldn’t have gotten help with his results.

"Practical results?" He interrupted. "What kind of school did you get into?"

"Kind of like you," he answered, smiling, "a school where you learnt how to fight."

"Really?" Sylvain said with no small dose of smiling snark. "Was there too much animation there too?"

He hadn't exactly disliked his year at Garreg Mach, but by the Goddess, too many things had happened, most stressful, for him to see it as a strictly good memory like Annette did. To his surprise, Judai looked at him with sarcastic amazement.

"How did you guess?"

Sylvain shrugged good-naturedly. They had reached the inn and the guard was climbing stairs. Likely, Caspar was in one of the rooms.

"Were there many kinds of classes like in ours?" Annette asked Judai with curiosity. "We were taught many things. There were bow classes, axe classes, different types of magic classes too... We even learnt to fly or ride if we wanted. What did you choose?"

Sylvain had no idea what Judai would answer or if he would answer at all, as Caspar chose that exact moment to open the door, the sudden movement shutting down the conversation faster than one could say "shitstains".

Caspar had grown, it was the first thing Sylvain noticed. Like, he had grown _a lot_. They weren't in the same leagues, but Sylvain was pretty sure he had grown more than Dimitri had. The little boy who had been smaller than Ingrid was now almost as tall as Felix. Maybe as tall? He couldn't be sure.

Caspar saw them. And screamed in joy.

"Sylvain, my man!" exclaimed, rushing forwards and embracing him.

Sylvain thought about pushing him back for less than one second, before deciding that subjecting himself to the hug for a few moments would be less annoying than dealing with the repercussions of refusing.

Caspar moved on from the embrace soon enough, his smile genuine and Sylvain relaxed a bit. Maybe it really wasn't a plot after all.

"Annette!" The young man exclaimed next, embracing her too. "I'm so glad to see you!"

Then he saw Judai, furrowed his brow, likely wondering if he knew him. He ended up shrugging and embraced him too without leaving him time to protest. Judai's face looked comically flustered, but he returned the embrace with only a few hesitations.

"Man," Caspar said joyously, waving to the guard who was gaping at them, "if I expected to see you guys there! What a good surprise! Come in, we need to talk a bit!"

"Sure," Sylvain said mellowly, hand not far from his hand axe just in case, "we just learnt you'd apparently deserted the Empire? How come?"

Caspar shrugged, closing the door behind them. It was only the four of them, even the woman guard didn't come in, she had simply saluted them politely before leaving them with a smile. Didn't look like a trap once again. Sylvain just really preferred being safe than sorry.

"Oh, yeah. Well, it happened around four years ago, but we kept it hush hush. I think we did pretty well, the Dukedom people here didn't even know, so they let us replace them peacefully without arguing. Pretty efficient, heh?"

Four years? That seemed too good to be true. Judai and Annette were already sitting on the chairs that were in the room, leaving only the air for Sylvain to sit on. Ungrateful small people… Did they think his long legs meant they were more sturdy?

"The truth is," Caspar laughed awkwardly, "that my father still hopes to bring me home. So even though I've spent the last four years taking every man who would follow me instead of him with me, hiding at Linhardt's and so on... well he's tried to keep my desertion a secret. It's helped me a lot, I kind of feel bad about that..."

That... sounded a lot like Caspar. Just caring, no matter the sides.

"Linhardt," Sylvain repeated carefully "is he here too?"

"Nah," Caspar said with another shrug, "we made a deal, since he didn't manage to sway anyone on his side at his estate - between us I think he didn't even try, his father’s men are pretty shitty people. Basically, I'd go give a hand to the Kingdom, who needed men, and he'd go to the Alliance, giving them his brain in exchange for peace and quiet."

The Hevring territories were much closer to the Kingdom than the Bergliez ones were. Sylvain figured it made sense, if Caspar had been hiding there, that he'd come here. And Hapi had indeed mentioned Linhardt going to Leicester, so the info held up. Still no lie in sight for now.

"But yeah," Caspar kept going with boundless enthusiasm, "we've freed a few villages around here. It was all Linhardt's plan, in truth, I was convinced we'd be found out but he was right and we weren't! We simply came, and told the Dukedom people the Empire had sent us to relieve them of their duty. It worked well, especially recently since Rowe was gathering men, and they've let us in without any resistance. Since then we've been mostly fighting off bandits who expected the Empire people not to care about the citizens. We've had our hands a bit full, but I was planning to cross the border and find you guys tomorrow! What a coincidence!"

"Caspar, that's amazing!" Annette squealed. "You've done so much, how could we ever thank you?"

"How long have you been doing that?" Judai asked with wonder.

"A year give or take? Before Rowe started calling for arms, this month, we had to stay quite a bit in every village and town for the deception to work, so we were advancing slowly."

Sylvain exhaled. The pieces of the puzzle all fit together. Why the townspeople were so happy to see Empire soldiers, Caspar's lack of deceitful nature - Linhardt's idea, of course it had been Linhardt's idea - the fact that they had been hiding at Hevring's before, the reason no one knew about it… It all made sense, and though it implied pretty crazy luck, it could also be explained by the lack of care that had already been shown for the safety of Dukedom citizens.

He supposed he could lower his guard, just a bit.

"Rowe's been gathering men," he said out loud, "it's not the first time we hear about that. Have you managed to see Ashe?"

Caspar's mouth turned down, some kind of sad pout.

"Not really, no. When we reached the place I heard he was stationed at, Rowe had already taken back most of those who stayed there. They're going to go to Ailell, I hear."

Ailell. That was what Judai had said. Which he still hadn't explained how he knew.

"Ailell?" Annette asked out loud. "But why would they go there?"

Who in their right mind, indeed, would go to such a Goddess forsaken place? Sylvain felt like he was melting just thinking about the heat.

Caspar blinked, clearly surprised.

"Haven't you heard?" he asked. "It's been the talk of the Empire and the Dukedom for more than a month, now."

"Most news don’t reach the resistance," Annette said sadly, "our communication channels to the outside have been cut off. That’s one of the reasons we came here today"

Caspar winced.

"Oh. Well. Long story short, the Alliance has taken Garreg Mach back. They've pushed back an Imperial siege two weeks ago, and now they're reuniting troops. Oviously, they intend to actually fight against the Empire."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuri causing Sylvain's bisexuality crisis was another joke we had with my friend Cielly, and so was its evolution of 'anyway everyone is probably attracted to Yuri', I loved including them here xD  
> I like Caspar. He's not one of my favourites but I think he's sweet and I like his relationship with Linhardt. So here he is! He probably won't have too much of a role, but his presence will definitely boost Faerghus' morale, especially since he brings troops! Basically he's a spark that will push our heroes forwards.  
> Also a quick note on Yuri's name and why I chose the 'Leclair' orthograph. Basically, in France (where I live), "Leclerc" is the name of a mall. It's kind of like if his name was 'Wallmart' if you see what I mean. But also and mostly, 'Leclair' can be directly translated by 'The Bright' which I think is an absolutely wonderful name for an Underground Lord, hence why I chose that one x)  
> Now, next chapter, we're staying in present time for once! At first it was supposed to be another flashback chapter but I moved things around a bit because I felt like it made more sense to stay here for the moment. However I'm... not sure when it will come out xD When I mentioned all the things I had to change because I forgot a month, here, that chapter got the least of it. Next chapter? Oooh boy I'm gonna have to change a lot.


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caspar and Sylvain try to figure out their next move and Judai has questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waaah that took too long... First there was the fact that I blanked on the chapter I was writing at the same time (ended up erasing 3 day's worth of work to redo it entirely differently), and then there were all the changes I mentioned having to do because of my fumbling with the timeline. As a result, this chapter is much shorter and... probably not as interesting as it could have been Y_Y As an apology I promise the next chapter will come soon!  
> There's also another small incident that occured that delayed the chapter further, an incident that might imply a small change in chapter count sooner or later x) We'll see I guess!

**Chapter 10**

_Never see the sun_

_Never be the same_

_I can see your tears inside_

_Torn up skies have killed the rain_

_Are we born to lose?_

_Should we even try?_

_Are we gonna get to choose_

_Who will live and who will die?_

**12th Day of the Pegasus Moon, Imperial Year 1185**

**Judai**

"Gloucester supports the Empire and he has the bridge," Sylvain was saying, "there's absolutely no way the Alliance can fight back against the Empire without his support."

"And Gloucester has most of the Alliance's army anyway," Annette mumbled, looking at the map, "if that's really their intention, they're going to have to play it safe."

Judai tried to look at the map. The land depicted on it was vaguely familiar, likely it hadn’t changed much in the years he was sleeping, but he had never been good with maps. Which meant that despite being here for now almost two months, he still had no idea in all hell where he currently was on it. Sothis had liked a canyon, he remembered, that should be around the center of the continent, but it didn't tell him where _he_ was right now.

Caspar was messing up his own hair (Which was blue. Not a word Yubel.) as he talked with Sylvain and Annette about a bridge Judai couldn't find. His eyes looked for letters and finally fell on something that looked a bit like how he imagined they wrote "Faerghus". The mostly northern and western part of Fodlan. Good, that told him why it was so damn cold then.

He followed the borders that had been drawn, separating Faerghus from Adresia, South, and Leicester, East. There was something at the northernmost point of the Leicester/Faerghus border, though he had to squint to be able to read it.

"The question," Sylvain was saying now, "is more the reception you will get amongst our men, Caspar."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, even if you are deserters, most people there aren't exactly fond of the Empire..."

Yeah, after the last month, Judai definitely understood that. The Empire Attacks had been relentless, everytime they evacuated a town or village to spare them the bloodshed, bringing them back to ruins had been a knife in Judai’s gut. The Empire wasn’t welcome there and it was pretty obvious why. Now that he thought about it, if the Alliance had pushed back Adrestia, that might explain why said attacks had ceased, they probably had pulled men back to prepare in case of an attack. Oh, Ailell! The point on the map was Ailell. So that was where Count Rowe's troops intended to go. That looked like a pretty complicated way of going to the Alliance or Kingdom, what exactly would push someone to go all this way?

"It's a pretty strategic place," Annette explained when he expressed his question out loud, "it usually allows undetected travel and passage from one country to another, because no one watches over that place. It's a pretty terrible place to be in to be honest. The Alliance probably went there to get more troops in secret, it's not too far from Daphnel after all."

"You got it right!" Caspar exclaimed. "From what we've been told, that's exactly it."

"But then," Judai asked, "how would Rowe know that he has to go there to intercept them?"

He unfortunately knew the answer before finishing his question. Yubel answered anyway, their tone somber.

" _They were betrayed_ ," they hummed, " _or someone was spying on them._ "

Judai winced. Annette sighed. Sylvain and Caspar had stopped arguing whether or not the Kingdom would welcome Caspar's men, not that they really needed to. Rodrigue was enough of a pragmatist to welcome them, but Dimitri? That was too much of an unknown for any of them to be sure whether he'd accept them or not.

When would Rowe make his move...

"Say," Judai started, "when do you think Rowe intends to march on Ailell?"

“End of the month I think,” Capar answered with a shrug, “that’s when the Alliance has made plans to join forces with Judith of Daphnel.”

“So, just in case there’s no way for us to officially join forces with you, you think you could trap them in Ailell?”

The moment the thought hit him, Sylvain started smiling.

"A pincer attack, that might work. We could have you walking towards Ailell and either join us in the Resistance, or keep going towards Ailell to catch Rowe's troops in its fight with the Alliance."

Annette jumped up, clasping her hands, eyes open wide.

“Okay, okay, let’s not jump to conclusions,” she said firmly, “I’m gonna go back, okay? Caspar, if your men think the path is safe for a small travel party, I could be back in Fraldarius tomorrow at the latest, and then back in a few days’ worth. There will still be time to think about whether or not we should try this pincer attack scheme once lord Rodrigue knows all about what we discovered here.”

“Sure!” Caspar said happily. “I’ll ask Amalia! She’s the one who brought you here, pretty harmless but moves fast! With just the two of you, you should be able to go undetected!”

"Annette, Caspar, you're the best," Sylvain smiled, "we do that."

It took less than fifteen minutes to organize Annette's return to camp, but it felt like barely a few seconds. Judai's whole body was engulfed in trepidation and some kind of wary excitation. This was the first time he really had the feeling things were moving. But the unknowns, how their allies would react? It was terrifying. Saying goodbye to Annette to stay with Sylvain, who he didn't dislike but who clearly didn't trust him? Not a particularly fun idea either.

 _"I thought strangers were just friends you hadn't made yet_?" Yubel teased him. ” _It’s been almost two months, you’re losing your touch._ ”

" _Hush you, I'll win him over you'll see._ "

Yubel laughed as he sat back on his chair after seeing Annette off. The other two men were still smiling, sincere, well, not like Caspar seemed like someone who could be not sincere. But he wasn't sure he had ever seen Sylvain look so relieved.

The silence between them, however, wasn't as constructive as Judai wished.

"So," he asked quickly, "what exactly _is_ Ailell other than _a terrible place_?"

Caspar laughed as if he was making a joke. When Sylvain cleared his throat and Judai just tilted his head, hoping his expression was every bit as inquisitive as he felt curious, he stopped and pointed at him with his thumb before turning to Sylvain.

"Is that guy for real?"

"He doesn't know anything about Fodlan that we haven't taught him," Sylvain explained lightly, with a wave, "don't worry about it."

"Seriously? You from Sreng or something?"

"Or something," Judai replied, "but anyway, can you answer? I'm pretty curious."

He looked at the map once more, this time noticing Garreg Mach, right at the center. So that was where the place Felix wanted him to go was, huh. Not exactly close, if they were near Fraldarius territories, as he figured they were. But it was close to the canyon Sothis had liked…

"Ailell," Sylvain started, "the Valley of Torment. The stories say it was created by the Goddess' fury, she burnt the place and destroyed it to the point the only thing left is a barren wasteland, sweltering hot, with lava."

That...

Judai blinked.

That didn't sound like Sothis, she was a builder, not a destroyer. Well, except for _one time_ really, he thought with a wince, but then the destruction hadn’t been that kind of destruction. It hadn’t taken aim at one place in particular and made it into a hellish place with no life...

He was also absolutely certain this place did _not_ exist in his time, and with how flabbergasted he must have looked, Sylvain's knowing face showed he had understood that last part at least.

"Dark," Judai mumbled, "is there anything else we can plan and do while waiting for Annette?"

"You?" Caspar asked, scratching his head. "Not really for now. I can go talk to my men, explain what we're gonna do and then come back once I have feedback, and then maybe start preparing counterplans in case joining you doesn't work out. In the meantime, you two just take a rest. Ask the innkeeper, she might have a room for you."

She did have one. With three beds, so one too much since Annette had left.

" _I don't agree,_ " Yubel smiled, " _there are three of us._ "

" _I better see you sleep on this bed tonight then._ "

They shoved him mentally and he smiled despite himself. Sylvain exhaled from relief when he took off his light armor, his smiling mask disappearing for a few seconds as he visibly focused to put himself back into a more relaxed state. Once he had regained his bearings, his lips stretched themselves back up.

"You escaped the question, earlier," the grinning man said, "but how did you know for Rowe's men?"

Judai sat on his own bed, before taking off his warm coat. He wasn't sure how much he wanted to admit about himself to Sylvain. Explaining it all in front of both him and Annette had seemed fine at the time, she’d be a good buffer, too happy to learn of the abilities he had to try to accuse him of anything. But in front of Sylvain only, as long as the man didn't trust him, saying too much would be a bad idea. Yubel hummed along, happy with his self-preservation. " _For once._ " they even snarked. It took a good portion of Judai's willpower not to roll his eyes.

"I can sometimes communicate with spirits," he said simply, "usually the ones that stay by my side. Which means that they can collect info pretty quickly on the condition that I stay near."

"That sounds like horsecrap."

Judai smiled despite himself. Sylvain hadn't lost his smile, but it was more strained. Well, Judai had said the truth, it wasn't his job to convince him next. He simply shrugged and Sylvain stared, eyes deadly serious.

"What are you?" he said.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play dumb. You're not possible. You've been asleep for literal centuries, nothing should be alive after _centuries_ asleep. And as far as I know, there's no magic to stop time from happening. You cannot be human."

As he spoke, Sylvain's smile dropped, a layer of deception being torn away.

"Your smile lies a lot," the red-haired man added, "but I want to trust that you are sincere when you speak at least. So what are you? There's no way a mere human could live that old. Or talk to spirits for that matter."

"There used to be many humans who could see and talk to spirits," Judai pouted, which was true but no answer to what Sylvain had asked.

Sylvain had been sincere for a few seconds. With a sigh, Judai figured he should do as much.

"You must be in your early twenties. I was already a bit older than you are when I fell asleep," he said bluntly, "I don't age. Haven't in a while."

"What? That's not possible."

"It is. It's the kind of thing that happens when you fuse your soul with a dragon's."

And that was enough honesty for today. Sylvain looked like the world had just tripped him to the ground, eyes incredulous. More and Judai was afraid he'd break his mind.

"You're going to tell me that dragons don't exist?" he joked, knowing his voice sounded tired.

"I'm not," Sylvain said with a weird, empty voice, "I saw one, once."

What.

The moment the implications registered themselves in Judai's head, he jumped to his feet, almost manic.

"You did?! Where? When? What did they look like? They..."

He didn't care for Sylvain jumping in surprise, his heart was beating too fast, too loud and Yubel was screaming inside his head. Dragon? Friend? Family? Where? Not alone? We're not alone? Please say we're not alone!

"Calm down," Sylvain exclaimed, hands raised as if to push him back were he to come closer, "I only saw it once..."

He hesitated and Judai felt anxiety join excitation and joy dissipating.

"It was when the Empire attacked Garreg Mach," Sylvain said, "it suddenly appeared, out of nowhere and attacked the Empire troops. It gave us the time to escape. But I... Well I don't remember much, we were too busy running away. But I think it was struck down."

Judai's legs almost collapsed under him. Suddenly feeling very weak, he let himself fall back on the bed. The wind had been knocked out of his chest along with the hope.

He closed his eyes.

"I see."

His heart was crying.

"Do you still want to know what it looked like?"

And know which of his friends or family had survived so long just to die right there.

"No, that's alright."

The truth was that dragons had almost always only been intangible, manifestations of some of the strongest souls. Sothis and her children had been the exception. But as time went, she accepted those strong souls as her brethren, letting them show their true form, as protectors of the land.

More than a few Nabateans had been humans before they accepted their Goddess' blessing. So many of his own friends had fused with that embodiment of their souls, the very way he himself had done so with the one he loved more than anything.

Well, he figured, time to hurt himself even more.

“Felix said that you had a crest,” he said, eyes still closed, “can you show me?”

There was a silence on the other side of the room. Sylvain’s voice was guarder when he answered.

“Why that? What does it have to do with anything?”

“I find them curious is all. They’re familiar to me, but also different.”

Another silence and then a twitch. Judai opened his eyes and let the feeling embrace him as he recognized, once again, that presence. Dark and sad, pure rage and fear. Reluctance towards change, and fear, fear, fear and dark. Him and Judai hadn’t had time to get very close, and it hurt, right now, he wished he had gotten to know him better. His breath hitched, a demonstration of feeling he hadn’t managed to hide..

When he looked at Sylvain, the young man was still staring at him, a bit of wonder and hysteria barely hidden in his eyes.

"Well look at that," he laughed with that fake humour of his, "could His Highness have actually really found someone holy?"

Holy.

The simple idea made Judai feel sick. There was nothing holy about him, nothing pure or sacred, no matter what the ancient texts or the love of his life liked telling him. It simply felt wrong to hear this kind of word to describe him.

"I'm surprised," he answered instead with genuine curiosity, "you introduced Dimitri as your childhood friend, but you always call him 'His Highness', 'Your highness.' What's up with that?"

Sylvain barked another laugh, more surprised than sarcastic this time.

"I don't exactly have a choice. It's proper procedure after all."

Now that he thought about it, Ingrid seemed to be doing the same. Felix didn't, but, as Judai couldn't help but think with a pained half-smile, he didn't really call Dimitri by his name either.

"I wouldn't have liked my friends calling me by a title instead of my name," he mused out loud.

"You're not a prince," Sylvain reminded him lightly.

No, Judai thought helplessly, but I was a king. A terrible one, a monstrous one that your ‘boar prince’ has nothing on. But a king all the same.

" _I can call you 'your majesty' if you want,_ " Yubel snarked in their mind, " _that could be my new pet name._ "

" _Don't you dare._ " he answered with a scowl. He immediately schooled his expression, not wanting Sylvain to see his ill mood.

"Maybe it's stupid," Sylvain admitted then, showing Judai didn’t need to worry, "he used to dislike how we call him by his title. But I've seen him being treated as a child for so long. I don't know. It was my way of reminding myself and the world that he was my future king, our future king. I kind of feel like calling him any other way would undermine him."

He ruffled his own hair, looking unbearably tired.

"I do not want to undermine him. And maybe that's why I don't say anything about it, but right now... Felix is right, he is not fit to rule. Not in the state he's in."

Not with his intense psychosis indeed, Judai thought, hallucinations that made him obsessive and violent at times. Not a good combination for a ruler. Sylvain kept going, aggravated in a way that showed he had been thinking about that subject for a while and found no answer.

"Even if the clerical staff who dealt with illnesses of the mind wasn't being hunted down by the Empire with the rest of them, even if we could find one who wasn't being overworked with all the traumas caused by war, I have no idea how long it'd take for His Highness, Dimitri, to get better. His presence is great at rallying the troops, but when he inevitably snaps, we may need someone who can oppose his decisions without it undermining him."

"Lord Rodrigue doesn't seem all that disposed to oppose him," Judai noted, "and no one really seems to listen to Felix."

Which was a shame. Felix made a lot of good points once you looked past the desperate vitriol.

"I was talking about you."

Judai blinked. And then turned, searching for someone behind him. Because for sure, Sylvain hadn't just said what he had heard, right? Or it was to someone else?

"What?" he said dumbly.

"If you are holy like I think you are," Sylvain said, looking annoyed at himself for even suggesting it, "then you could be another rally point. Many people here think it's the Church's duty to lead the King should he turn away from the right path. That wouldn't seem too out of place."

Judai couldn't breathe.

It was like air had stopped flowing through the room and he was underwater, choking and drowning, each desperate gulp pulling more water into his dying lungs. He barely heard Sylvain's next words beneath the veil that had started covering his ears.

"That'd be mostly symbolic of course. Even if Rodrigue trusts you, he wouldn't give you actual real authority above His Highness. But as a symbol, we could pretend you have chosen another strategy and have the soldiers following you."

"Are you pretending that I," Judai gasped, "a small scrawny complete stranger with no evidence of holiness, have the necessary charisma to oppose the de facto ruler of your country? You must be insane."

"Maybe," Sylvain admitted with a shrug, "but it's the only plan we have right now. Even if it'll take time to have the people know you and trust you enough. And time is one thing we don't have right now, especially if the Alliance is indeed fighting back against the Empire."

Sylvain's smile was predatory.

"You wanted to help, didn't you? Well don't worry. We'll work you to the bone."

"Can I get Annette back?" Judai said after forcing himself to breathe slowly, "At least when she smiles, it's nice."

"Please, I have dozens of women who will tell you that my smile is incredibly handsome."

Judai laughed. The sound was as strained as he felt, body shivering with anxiety, like a cold dead weight.

"Honestly, I don't really mind that you dislike me. I'm grateful enough for all you actually explained to me. It means a lot, for someone as lost as I am. But please. Do not ever call me holy again."

"You adapt well, for someone lost." Sylvain answered, either not commenting on Judai's demand or ignoring it all together.

"I used to be a traveller. It forces you to be good at adapting."

"Fair enough."

Feeling exhausted, Judai took off his shoes, preparing to sleep or at least rest a bit, attempting to smother the anxiety that was starting to take place in his body.

"I do not dislike you."

Sylvain's voice made him jump. The red-haired man hadn't moved, still staring at him with this harsh smile of his.

"I guess," Judai nodded, "you just distrust me. And I get it. It's hard to trust people like you and me, who lie with a smile about how they feel. Especially when one is as shady as I am."

Sylvain nodded, his pleasant smile never leaving his face either. Judai closed his eyes briefly, wondering if he should take that opportunity. After all, for all of Sylvain’s distrust, the one thing he hadn’t been stingy about had been explanations.

"So, since you're so good at giving me information without showing feelings. There are three things I've been meaning to ask. Which one is least dangerous for me to know about? The Emperor, Caspar, or Glenn?"

Sylvain barked a surprised laugh.

"Well at least your blunt curiosity is earnest," he said, "if you really have to know, Glenn is off limit and not any of your business anyway. I know you just wonder because His Highness calls Felix by this name at times."

"Guilty as charged."

"Yeah well as I said, not your business. Caspar and the Emperor, Edelgard, they were our classmates at Garreg Mach, five years ago."

"Right, I had kind of figured that out. Annette said so for Caspar and Mercedes had mentioned the Emperor when she was talking about Garreg Mach."

"I wasn't close to either of them," Sylvain admitted, "but I did know a bit of Caspar. Mostly through Felix. Caspar and Ferdinand liked training against him. Apparently he gave good criticism."

"Let me guess, he barked orders to make them correct their positions?"

"Definitely."

Judai snorted. Yep, that sounded like the young man he had learnt to know during their training sessions. Felix was lucky Judai responded well to that kind of criticism and came back asking for more.

"However," Sylvain sighed, "even with how closed on herself she was, no one had expected Adrestia's princess to actually plan a coup to overthrow the Church. We knew relationships between the Church and the Empire had been tense, but it was just that. Tense. Kind of like lovers who felt awkward after a fight, you know? Not 'I'm going to destroy you and invade the two other countries on the continent because some people there worship you' or so she says is her motivation."

"You don't think that’s the truth?"

"Well, that's what she said in her manifesto, that the Church was abusing its power and promoting a fake Goddess and that any remnant of it needed to be put down. She used how Faerghus came to be as proof and reason why it needed to be reconquered… The problem is that it definitely isn’t how it happened but well, I figure Adrestia probably teaches a different version of events than ours, seeing how they’re the ones who lost lands back then. I’ve seen enough of my father’s campaigns against Sreng, ever since they took some of our lands, to know that demonizing your enemies and finding reasons to justify a reconquest always happen."

"But from what you told me, Sreng’s conquests happened not that long ago, so yeah, it’s awful, but I guess people are still pissed... Didn't Faerghus separate from the Empire centuries ago? It's not as if it's recent History."

"Recent or old History, we always knew some of the most ambitious traditionalists in the Empire wanted to take back what they believed to be ‘rightfully theirs’, that's why our peeps have never been fond of the Empire."

Judai crossed his fingers, thoughtful, trying to swallow down the nausea stuck in his mouth.

"So basically... Because a long time ago all these countries were one, some people believe they should be again, under their authority of course, and erase any individuality these countries now have? Like their faith?"

"You got it."

"That’s... arrogant at best."

"Well it's war. I don't think I've ever heard mention of a war that wasn't started for repulsive or arrogant reasons."

He was absolutely right. Judai snorted.

"In my days, there was no Empire ruling over Fodlan. So how's that for the lands belonging to them."

"Hey, don't look at me," Sylvain groaned, "I've been trying to make peace with Sreng for years, her war has made it nigh impossible, something she either doesn’t know or doesn’t care about. Honestly, even if the Church had abused their power the way she said, it's still far from being as awful as what happened the last years."

And he said that as someone who had already mentioned just how much he hated the system… But Judai understood, again. How many burnt down villages had he seen in the last month? Even this one, the closest they had come to a thriving place, was broken down at parts, with bangled repairs, children begging in the streets and people sobbing on graves. And they were in an already conquered place, that shouldn’t have been seeing violence! How many calamities had happened less than a few steps from this inn because of the war? How many had happened in the places they hadn’t managed to save recently? According to Judai's spirits, far too many.

It was all painfully familiar and Judai felt cold. And angry.

"In the end," he said with more calm than he expected from himself, "her reasons don't matter. There's nothing that justifies what she has done. These ruined fields used as battlefields? These destroyed places full of innocent citizens? It could be for the noblest reason of them all and it would still just be the strong trampling over the weak for their own goals."

“Agreed,” Sylvain mumbled as he finally laid down on his bed.

Sovereigns never asked the people if they agreed with their wars. They took and took and didn't care. The only thing that mattered wasn't the ones they would kill, but the victory they would earn. Innocents were casualties, they didn't matter, especially if they happened to have been born on the opposite side and held different values. That was nothing new, that shouldn’t still surprise him, just how depraved people could be and yet feel self-righteous.

Judai had known for centuries that whoever started a war wouldn't be someone he could stand by. It had included himself after all.

" _We need to stop them,_ " he told Yubel, " _I don't know if that Emperor is stupid, arrogant or simply making the same kind of mistakes I did, but we have to._ "

" _She has already done irreparable damage, my love._ "

" _I know. So did I. I still needed to be stopped._ "

And he was stopped in the end. She would be too.

*

**15th day of the Pegasus Moon, Imperial Year 1185**

Annette came back a few days later. She opened their bedroom door without care, screaming at them to wake up. Sylvain had jumped high, frantically searching for his weapon. Judai had stared at the ceiling, trying desperately to relax his body and asking Yubel if he could still die of a heart attack. They had doubts about that, thank the Gods.

Ten minutes later, they were eating a small breakfast as the young woman explained what had happened while they were stuck here. She hadn't come back alone, and Judai tensed immediately when she told them Rodrigue had taken the risk of coming with her to talk to Caspar, along with Mercedes and Ingrid.

"He left my father in charge," she said, seeing both of their gazes, "don't worry. Anyway, he's talking with Caspar, right now, since I vouched for him and we clearly lack intel. We're joining them as soon as you're ready."

Judai couldn't remember ever trying to finish his breakfast faster.

When they found the two men, it was already a done deal, and Mercedes and Ingrid had already left to get their own food. They were clasping hands, Caspar's enthusiasm reflected in Rodrigue's fond, indulgent eyes. Pride, too. Two generations, with very different experiences, but an agreement reached. It was the first time, really, Judai saw Rodrigue and saw a father. Well, it wouldn't be in his son that he'd find such youthful enthusiasm for sure, still Judai couldn't help but wonder if as a kid, younger, innocent, not as broken by life, Felix had ever shown such pure joy.

"I have accepted the help of Lord Bergliez," Rodrigue told them, "our men have already been warned that Empire deserters might join us, so this won't be an issue. However, Annette and Caspar here told me you had planned for a contingency plan?"

"Yes sir," Sylvain answered, stiffly formal for once, "as Count Rowe's men intend to march to Ailell to trap the Alliance forces gathering there, we had figured Bergliez' men could take them in a pincer."

"An ingenious plan," Rodrigue admitted, "but not one that really matters anymore. I understand that you were afraid of His Highness’ reaction, but we’ve taken precautions and it should be alright. Even with our new friend's help, we can’t spare too many men after all. I am eternally grateful for your support, Lord Bergliez."

Caspar chuckled, an embarrassed yet proud sound. He had betrayed his father, Judai knew, but he was only talking about the man with fondness. Maybe that was why he seemed so happy to hear Rodrigue’s praise. Fatherly approbation one way or another.

"However," Rodrigue started again, "even if we don’t send any men there, we do need to know how the battle at Ailell turns out."

Had Judai been stronger, he would have suggested sending his spirits. But right now, that wasn't feasible. He wasn't exactly sure why it was so important, though.

"Well," Rodrigue explained, "on the one hand, we need to know if Rowe will keep being a problem or if he's taken care of."

That sounded reasonable, if deeply cynical.

"And on the other..." Judai had a sinking feeling about it.

Rodrigue's suddenly heavy eyes didn't make him feel any better.

"On the other," he said slowly," during your absence, His Highness has elected to take the fight to the Empire directly. That is the main reason we could never afford to turn down any help. We’ll go through Alliance territories and cross Myrddin's bridge. Which means we need to know if that way is open to us or not."

At Judai's side, Sylvain swore quietly. Judai gulped too, feeling a mix of cold fear and anger churning in his gut.

"That's a terrible plan," he said, "with what little we have, we should be retaking Kingdom Territories, preserving our forces thanks to the population's support."

Sylvain's gaze was both empty and full of pity. They both knew his protests were true, but useless. In the end, Rodrigue's lowered eyes were enough. Dimitri had decided, and there was nothing anyone could do. In truth, Dimitri’s idea made sense, to end the war in one strike, it might actually go faster like that while preserving the Kingdom's population, that had already suffered too much, from more battle… But the resistance they’d find on the way made their victory unlikely at best. Judai inhaled. It was a long way until the Empire. He could only hope it'd be long enough to convince Dimitri to change his mind.

"What do you suggest?" he asked. "Should we send a scouting party?"

"Of course," Rodrigue said kindly, "a small unit, no more than four or five people. They should be able to travel undetected, reach Ailell and go back with no problem once they have all we need."

"Good," it was time to make Felix proud, "I wish to come."

Sylvain turned to him briskly, a warning in his eyes. Judai didn't look at him, eyes firmly stuck on Rodrigue's. The man's smile was still as kind and understanding and Judai knew he had won before he even spoke.

"Of course. That was my plan. Ingrid and Mercedes will come too, I think a healer and a warrior used to discretion and quick strikes are the most useful we could have with us.."

"Us?"

"Of course," Rodrigue said, "I am coming too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing that I can't help but think is amazing in the game is how a lot of the false history turns out to be true from a certain point of view. Case in point, Ailell, created by the fury of the Goddess. Turns out it was actually a Pillar of Light (and with such a name, it's like they were begging me to add GX lore I swear) that was sent to Garreg Mach, was pushed back by Sothis's power, and crashed on Ailell instead... So in a way, yeah, it was the Goddess' anger that created it. There are many others like that that I find really interesting!  
> Also since there's been another kinda reveal, I figure I should start explaining how I decided which crest represented which GX character. The truth is that it's a mix of many things. Some I decided just because I thought it'd make sense in the story/would allow nice scenes. Some I chose because of the names of their NG+ signs. But when I really couldn't decide, like here for Sylvain, I checked their tarot meanings (in case you didn't know, all crests are based on a Major Tarot Arcana, with the characters holding them being representations of said Arcana). The Gautier Crest is the Arcana of Death, a card that means change/reluctance to change (which Sylvain is a great representation of, both through his wish for change in the world and his certainty at first that he can't himself bring that change). I am completely crazy about these meanings to be honest!


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain is confused and tries to confront people. It usually backfires.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something that was pretty fun about imagining Sylvain's pov, was that it'd be a completely outsider point of view. Someone looking at the game's events without understanding shit because they'd be far from the weird stuff happening to their classmates x) While this chapter barely deals with in-game events, it was kind of the feeling I was going for, what with the world clearly circling around the Golden Deer house and Sylvain trying to figure out what was up.  
> Now, Claude! Claude, Claude, Claude... There was this event in Fire Emblem Heroes where he asked to be introduced to 'unusual' tacticians and so gets to meet some of the most awful people in the series, telling him absolutely horrendous tactics that imply not caring one bit about the lives of your men, and Claude basically nodding and smiling. And then the last one asks him why he wants to know and Claude answers candidly that he wants to hear about the most atrocious tactics existing so he can counter them. The one he talks to doesn't believe him, which is pretty hilarious since when you play the game... you realize Claude is absolutely saying the truth there. He is supremely horrified when his allies die on him, if Solon kills the villagers in Remire he's crying out about how they could have saved them instead of getting angry like the others do, evacuates his people the moment Derdriu is at risk, and the one time he mentions that kind of tactics (setting fire to the hill in Gronder after the mock battle) he is clearly joking, with _Edelgard_ being the one who ends up using such tactics. Claude's schemes are ultimately either harmless or made with people's survival in mind, and Nintendo has confirmed that it's a matter of culture, as Almyra sees living to see another day as a victory in itself. So basically, that FEH event made me think far too much and I honestly blame at least half of this chapter on it xD

**Chapter 11**

_Watch me get it get it wrong at the top of my lungs_

_While you front for every one, while you tip toe for fun_

_I can scream until your ears bleed, you're gonna never hear me_

_You hear what you want, but you never wanted me_

**12th day of the Wyvern moon, Imperial Year 1180**

**Sylvain**

Punched in the face, beaten up, destroyed, ass-kicked, humiliated. These were the terms Sylvain had heard for now and it was like each and any person relating the incident found a new one to use. He had first heard about it by a delighted Ferdinand von Aegir, who was talking to Leonie Pinelli of all people, as if Sylvain hadn't assumed the man was unable to see women who weren't of nobility - though maybe it had been unfair of him to think him the equivalents of Lorenz. (And maybe he was still feeling a bit guilty about how he had called Leonie crude, she had turned up her nose at him, likely still offended and he felt bad, he did, but that wasn’t the matter here.)

Felix had kicked somebody's ass in the training grounds. Nothing shocking, usually, that wouldn't have made the news, no, not something that happened around four times everyday. So of course, Sylvain had wondered why. What exactly had made that one time so noticeable?

Well according to Ferdinand, he had done so after the other person had made a disparaging comment, though about what, Sylvain couldn't guess. Ferdinand had gone back to gushing about how graceful and deadly Felix's form was, with Leonie agreeing readily about everything, though mentioning, tongue-in-cheek, that they probably shouldn't tell the man, that they needed to keep his ego in check.

Too late for Sylvain, though, his curiosity was picked, as it often was when the matter had to do with his old friends. Which had meant that, instead of going to the knight's hall to prepare for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion by studying tactics as he had expected to do, instead of trying his luck at that fishing tournament for Flayn so many were speaking fondly of, he had gone looking for info.

His first idea had been Caspar.

After all, if there was one person who made use of the training grounds, outside of Felix and Dimitri, it would be Caspar. He was the one most likely to have seen it happen.

Caspar was, in fact, still in the training grounds, accompanied by Raphael. The two brawlers were laughing out loud as they fought, something Sylvain sincerely couldn't understand. Training had never been interesting or fun for him, the fact that these two were fighting seriously enough to throw each other to the ground, yet seemed to find it exhilarating was the weirdest thing, as far as he was concerned.

"Hey, Sylvain, my man!" Caspar exclaimed, seeing him. "Not often we see you here! Wanna join us?"

Seeing as he was sprawled onto the ground, Raphael holding him down seemingly without any effort, Sylvain would have to decline.

"No thanks," he said with a smile, "I don't think I'd measure up to you two's strength."

"Damn right," Raphael laughed, "though we could be surprised. Caspar pulls quite a punch for such a scrawny thing."

"This scrawny thing will kick your ass! I'll grow up, you see!"

"Even if you do grow up," Sylvain teased, "I don't expect you to get to my height or Raphael's."

"You all look scrawny to me," Raphael nodded with a laugh, "doesn't mean some of you can't kick me down."

Time to turn the conversation right where he wanted.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure His Highness or Felix can give you a run for your money, when it comes to brawling."

"Oh, yeah!" Caspar screamed loudly, loudly enough in fact that Raphael startled and let him go. The young man shot up, a gigantic smile on his face. "I haven't fought Dimitri yet but Raphie tells me he's wow!"

"He is," Raphael confirmed joyfully, "he can lift a carriage with no effort and he has great balance. I haven't pushed him down yet!"

"And yeah, Felix is so strong, it's almost unfair!" Caspar added, almost complaining. "He has no shoulders to speak of so I thought it was just swords at first, and maybe his crest, but then I brawled against him and damn? He hits like three horses trampling you! I'd almost feel bad for the guy from that morning if it wasn't for what he said."

"Really?" Sylvain smiled, jackpot. "And what is it that he said? I only know Felix ruined him."

"Something about tactics I think?" Raphael mentioned carelessly. "I don't know the specifics."

"It wasn't simply tactics," Caspar huffed, "he said tactics that prioritised soldier lives over victory were naive and stupid, also something about there being no honour in living after losing a battle."

Oh.

Someone from Faerghus, probably, pushing all of Felix's buttons in one sentence. Sylvain winced. Well, that was one mystery solved.

"Ah, right!" Raphael laughed. "That would have done it. Was Claude here to hear it? He would have been mad too."

"Huh?" Caspar asked distractedly. "Yeah, he was. The dude was talking to him, actually. He just smiled and nodded."

Raphael burst out laughing, as if such a reaction was some hilarious joke.

"Typical Claude," he laughed, "which reminds me that I have a tutoring session that I need to get to."

"Tutoring?"

"In case you guys didn't notice, I'm not exactly smart. My brains need help."

Sylvain watched the gentle giant, still speaking happily with Caspar, leave the training grounds without a word. His thoughts were running wild. While Felix was definitely the kind to take offense at this kind of comment, somehow, Claude's presence changed something. He didn't know what exactly, he just knew it did.

And maybe it was that nagging feeling of his, that felt uncomfortable everytime Claude was mentioned, that made him think, surely, there must have been more to it.

He could have gone back to Dimitri, who was becoming a nervous wreck with the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion coming. Having one of his close friends nearby, other than Ingrid who would be drowning in her own stress anyway, would definitely help him.

Instead, he went looking for Yuri.

Yuri Leclair was the most beautiful person he had ever seen and it hurt to admit the first time. The young man had materialised above grounds with a fantastical story and the kind of pretty face poets talked about with flowery metaphors. He had promptly charmed every person above, including, to Sylvain's desperation, himself. Because being that gorgeous was unfair, really.

But in the few weeks he had been here, two things had been clear about Yuri Leclair. The first was that he was a flirty guy who, somehow, managed not to sound like an asshole when he did flirt, contrary to Sylvain, according to his friends. The second was that wherever Claude went, Yuri could be expected not to be far. The two had striked this kind of weird friendship where they seemed to be of the same mind and always knew what the other was thinking or doing.

That at least made one of them, because while his story told Sylvain enough about Yuri that he felt he could guess what went through his mind sometimes, Claude was still an infuriating mystery that was only more dangerous now that he had managed to get one of Sylvain's dear friends among his rank. Yes, Felix had said it was to have a swordswoman as his professor, that Byleth Eisner was the reason for his transfer and Sylvain believed him, somewhat. But still, he was now in Claude's manipulative grasp and Sylvain disliked it. He didn't trust anyone manipulative with Felix's painfully earnest self.

Maybe it was because Sylvain knew himself. He knew that had he not grown with Felix and cared for him for so long, he would have used him without any hesitation. Claude hadn't known him, there was no way he'd be as indisposed to do so...

In the end, he found Yuri at the pond, talking fondly to professor Eisner as the stoic woman fished, smiling, an expression he didn't even know she could make.

"It was a glorious sight," the beautiful man sighed, "I wish more could have seen it. Our stray cat really is a wonder on the battlefield."

"I have it on good authority that you defeated him yesterday," she answered softly, "what does that make you?"

"Someone who fights dirty, friend. Which I'm teaching him to do, and he actually used one of my tactics during the fight. He's a quick study, that one. I was a proud teacher, hah, they grow up so fast."

Professor Eisner's smile got slightly bigger as she inhaled, probably the closest thing to an amused snort Sylvain would ever hear or see her make.

"As your professor," she chided him, "I should not encourage you to be violent towards other students."

"Please," Yuri scoffed as Sylvain got closer, "you would have done the very same had you heard the guy. He wasn't just making light of human lives, he was insulting any tactician seeing men instead of numbers. Including and especially your own favourite student."

"He's not my favourite student."

"Right."

"I'm not supposed to have a favourite student?" she tried instead.

"Better."

"Well it makes sense," she said as she pulled back her fishing rod, "Faerghus believes honour is more important than life. Claude believes the most important victory is being alive. It's a difference of culture."

Of course, it was about freaking Claude von Riegan. Not that it should have surprised him, seeing the conversation subject. And it was exactly what he was looking for, wasn’t it? So Sylvain masked his scowl behind a smile and walked forwards.

"Hello Sylvain," Byleth said with a kind voice, "how can we help you?"

Yuri turned to him with a knowing smile, an unfairly attractive one once again. Sylvain greeted them casually.

"Oh, nothing," he said lightly, "I'm just trying to forget about all the stress the battle is giving us. Don't tell anyone I said that, but I think Dimitri is driving himself crazy. He's actually spending more time on the training grounds than Felix and Caspar combined!"

"He should be careful", Byleth said with a frown, "his health is more important than a mock-battle."

"If only he thought like you, professor, if only. But you two seemed pretty chill here, so I figured I'd join you, yeah? Not stressed at all?"

The professor hummed and put another bait on her rod.

"I trust my students. I know how great they are. Plus, Manuela and Hanneman insisted on having me on the battlefield, so it's already unfair for you."

"Thinking highly of yourself, aren't you?" Sylvain laughed.

She raised an eyebrow and Sylvain faltered maybe a bit, though he had to admit to be a bit amused. Yes, indeed, she was an exceptional fighter. If there was one who could stop Dimitri on the battlefield, he figured it'd be her or Edelgard.

Or Felix. No doubt he'd be itching to fight "the Boar" as he called him, no matter how much Sylvain disliked it.

"Anyway," she added, "since we have many advantages, we've been thinking about how to even the odds. And we elected not to have some of our best elements on the field."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see. Anyway, let's forget about the battle. Isn't that why you came here?"

He had come here hoping to find Claude. But obviously, the Golden Deer leader wasn't here.

"Well maybe I actually came here to spy on your tactics?" he winked.

"That would be smart," Yuri winked back, "but somehow I don't believe it. However, now that you're here, there's a riddle I've been meaning to give you for a while. I figure we could do so."

"A riddle?" Byleth asked with a bit of curiosity, rod back in the water.

"Nothing you should concern yourself about, friend."

"I'm good at riddles," Sylvain smiled, "hit me."

Yuri stood up. His smile was softer than flirty this time, but it held an edge of mischievousness that looked great on him. Why did everything look great on him?

"I don't know how much it can be considered a riddle," he crooned, "but if you check the registers of noble Faerghan families, you might notice someone missing. If you do, do look at me twice."

"That's it?" Sylvain groaned, though he had to admit he felt curious. "I actually have work to do? How boring."

"I always make people work for what they want," Yuri smirked, "now, since you keep looking around, let me tell you: please don't go bother Claude today, he's on a date."

Sylvain tried to hide his jump. He was pretty sure he had succeeded, but denying that he was looking for Claude would have been way too suspicious.

"I was just surprised not to see you with him," he joked, "you're usually attached at the hip. But a date? Now that's an interesting piece of gossip. Tell me more?"

"And betray a friend's secret? I'm not that kind of person."

Sylvain left soon after, feeling light-headed and more curious than ever. People were still talking about ‘Felix's epic smackdown’, as Caspar had started calling it, the whole day and the two after.

Only when it calmed down did he start tracking Claude down.

**15th day of the Wyvern moon, Imperial Year 1180**

Claude was in the stables when Sylvain found him. He was in a wyvern's stall, petting her and whispering sweet nothings to her ear. The gigantic beast was headbutting him slightly in a way that definitely looked affectionate.

"Well you sure look cozy," he crooned at the leader, "she seems to like you."

"Destra, here, is a sweetheart," Claude answered with a laugh.

"I didn't expect to find you here, didn't know taking care of the wyverns was your job."

It wasn't. Sylvain knew perfectly that it wasn't, but he had also observed Claude enough to notice that he often went there after class, which was how he knew where to find him. Claude smiled at him, green eyes sparkling with a mischievousness that felt disturbing, as if he could see right through Sylvain's fake question.

"I was riding her for practice and noticed she had a torn muscle, so the healers want her to be pampered until she’s healed. As her rider, I volunteered."

Then his smile got bigger and, strangely, more sincere. That was weird. Truth being told, Sylvain deeply disliked Claude, the young man was enough like a mirror that Sylvain knew he couldn't be trusted. But the bigger Sylvain's smiles went, the faker they usually were.

"I also," Claude laughed freely, "really like wyverns. So it's not really a chore for me."

The wyvern keened and headbutted his shoulder delicately, likely asking for more pets, like an overgrown, scaly cat. Claude obeyed instantly, eyes soft and sincere.

"So your flirting is not limited to human beings?" Sylvain joked. "Glad to know that."

"Well it's much easier," Claude retorted with good humour, "you can't break a wyvern's heart as long as you give her a few pets and good food. She will, however, pretend to be offended if you do not have treats for her when she asks."

As if to illustrate what he was saying, the wyvern nipped at his pocket, a gentle growl rumbling in her throat. Claude put a firm hand on her head.

"Not now, beautiful, we have a guest. And I still need to bathe your wing. You'll get it afterwards."

The wyvern whined, but stood down and let the young man get close to her wing. Sylvain watched him, delicately washing the wing with a sponge and a bucket of water. He stayed silent, eyes fixated on every little movement he was doing. Felix too, was good with animals. Not so much horses and wyverns, though. He was more of a cat person, even if he usually didn't really let anyone see him. Sylvain knew pointedly that he only didn't like them seeing him because they loved teasing him when they did, but he couldn't help it, it was so cute! Much cuter than the fascinating ritual of Claude's hand, slowly, as if he was handling something fragile, cleaning between the wyvern's scales, smiling, humming, more peaceful and carefree than ever. Sylvain loved horses. He always had, he was good with them. He wondered if he seemed that open when he was taking care of them and how much more alike him and Claude could be...

When the Deer finished up his task, holding a small treat (Was that a carrot? Sylvain didn't even know Wyverns ate those...) for the beast to munch on, he turned to Sylvain. There was no surprise at still seeing him. If anything, he looked like he expected it.

"So. What are you doing here if you're not looking for me?"

Sylvain had a long time ago decided that the best way to handle most of his more unknown emotions without losing his mask was to react as if nothing was important to him. So he just laughed and lied his ass off.

"Oh, just hiding from my last girlfriend. You know how it is, they can't leave it alone."

"I don't, actually", Claude said lightly.

"Come on, you flirt as much as I do."

Claude's chuckle was heavy with meaning and Sylvain knew as well as he did that it wasn't true. Yes, Claude flirted. But his way of flirting wasn't _interested_. It was more about making people comfortable and having them feel wanted than actually wishing for a good time. Didn't mean it was more sincere.

Somehow, Sylvain had expected Claude to have broken a few hearts anyway since the beginning of the school year, and he didn't know if he felt smug about that, or on the contrary, infuriated at the man having the moral high ground when it came to this subject matter.

"Anyway," he said, swallowing back his angry emotions, "seeing you work reminded me that I've heard you were good at board games? I don't have many good opponents. Care to indulge me?"

There was a twinkle in Claude's eye as he agreed readily. The dining hall was still empty at that hour, except for professor Byleth, currently eating with Lysithea and professor Hanneman. That was a weird combination, but Sylvain didn't really have time to explore what any of it could mean.

The young man had his game set on the table a long time ago. He had spent some time thinking up his plan after all, and if Claude hadn't agreed, he would have played by himself, probably. Maybe Ingrid would have said yes and then left angrily as he wiped the floor with her.

"I intended to ask Ingrid," Sylvain lied smoothly when Claude gave him a funny look, seeing the board already set, "but with that new heartbreak behind me, I'm afraid she'd be too angry. Playing with an angry opponent is such a bore."

"We don't want that," agreed Claude with that knowing smile of his that showed he didn't believe him one second.

And so they sat and distributed the pieces and Claude let him choose his colors and who started, with an easy, comfortable smile. Sylvain had expected him to argue, to make sure he'd have the advantage. But Claude let him take the lead easily. It was offsetting, to have him being so complacent, but there was some kind of hunger in the curl of his lip. Sylvain inhaled as softly as possible. Apparently, the teenager was as impatient to start this as he himself was.

So Sylvain started the game, moving piece after piece while they talked, idle chatter, like the flowers in the greenhouse that Dedue was taking care of, or the chef's special that hadn't been spicy enough to Claude's tastes, or other stupid things that didn't matter. Neither of them wanted to talk about that, Sylvain knew, but neither wanted to be the one who gave up, acting as if the subject they really wanted to approach didn’t exist. Easy smiles, tongue in cheek, laughing at small things, pretending they didn't know why the other really was there. Whoever would break first would lose the real game, who cared about the board one that they were currently tying on?

"I guess you're lucky I'm not the one strategizing for the battle of the Eagle and the Lion," Sylvain laughed as he got his second win, "looks like I'd give you a run for your money."

"I actually think it's a shame," Claude admitted with his usual smile, "I like testing my skills against interesting people."

"Awww, you think I'm interesting."

Claude laughed again and rearranged the pieces to start another game.

"Felix spoke highly of your strategic mind, so I'll admit that I wanted to test it out for myself too."

The bomb had been dropped. The name they had been avoiding since the beginning of their cat and mouse session. So Claude had given up first, hadn't he? Sylvain did all he could not to show his smugness, accepting the silent offer of one more game to have one definitive victor.

"Really? I am flattered, he'd never say that to me in person."

"I believe his terms of choice were more 'Can't you fight without your damn mind games? You’re acting like Sylvain!' which I find very illuminating."

Sylvain did laugh at that too, fondness colouring his voice.

"So he is settling in okay I see. And you two sparred? Huh. I didn't think he'd spar with you."

'You don't seem the type' went unsaid. Claude's lips were stretched in a funny line, as if Sylvain had just said something hilarious.

"What I mean," Sylvain tried with a heavy smile, "is that he's usually not patient enough to stand the antics of people like us. Especially when his training is on the line."

"Every man can be patient if they know you'll give them what they want in the end," Claude answered in a sing-song voice, "in Felix's case, saying 'I promise I'll train with you, just let me finish that first' goes a long way."

"And do you, actually?"

"Of course," Claude said in mock-offense, "I always keep my promises. And even if I didn't as a rule of thumb, I'd keep those I make to Felix. Promises are important to him, you know?"

His heavy gaze was at odds with the lazy smile on his face. Sylvain's own smile felt strained. There was no way Claude knew about any promises Sylvain and Felix made to each other, Felix didn't talk enough about himself for that. And even if he did, one month would be too little time for him to trust someone else enough to show such a peek inside the more vulnerable parts of his tightly guarded heart. But what felt really disturbing was the seriousness, the almost threat in Claude’s voice, as if he did know, or at least knew much more than he should.

"You seem to like him," he commented in as light a voice as he could, "I didn't expect that either. All serious-business as he is, I thought you'd find him annoying."

Claude's chuckles were fond, warm, and there was a cold pit in Sylvain's stomach, forming as he heard them.

"You should know that under his prickly exterior, he is really likeable. Plus, he has one quality that I like a lot."

"Which is?"

"He's true."

Sylvain hummed and moved his piece, an excuse to tear his stare from Claude's clever eyes.

"As long as we're not talking about his feelings," Claude added as if he had not noticed Sylvain's small surrender, "you can always trust Felix to be honest. Blunt, even. To a fault. I love that. It's hard to come by, in the Alliance."

"That's funny, some people tend to believe him dishonest at first."

"Because he can't look at people in the eyes?"

Claude's knowing smirk was definitely annoying. His much more serious eyes weren't much better, staring at him coldly. The closest Sylvain would come to rip his smiling mask off, probably.

"You noticed," Sylvain simply commented.

"Of course. I think only Lysithea hasn't realized, and it's mostly because everything any of us do she somehow interprets as us looking down on her."

Well, damn, now Sylvain wanted to mess with her. He ignored the urge, only to be overwhelmed by the weight in his stomach as he thought about how it wasn’t always that way, how once upon a time Felix would look people in the eyes, proudly and with a smile. Maybe that was why Ingrid, at times, still had difficulties remembering that he didn’t, now...

"They should know," Sylvain drawled, "people who can never look into your eyes are bad liars."

"You're right," Claude said as they stared at each other, "it's people who can look into your eyes and lie that you should watch out for."

Sylvain agreed silently and moved a piece.

"So," he smiled, trying to pull the conversation back to safer topics, a surrender, one he hated himself for, "that's how most people are in the Alliance?"

"Oh, there are honest people there too. Raphael is too honest for his own good, and Lysithea is so blunt I think she could actually learn about lying or at least showing tact. I swear, that girl will make Marianne or Ignatz cry one day… But yeah, a snake basket, that’s Leicester."

"Well the Alliance loves its power games," Sylvain commented lightly, "it would make sense that you're told to be guarded instead of honest."

"True facts," Claude added happily, too happily, "I guess that's not as much of an issue in the Kingdom?"

"We are taught the ideals of chivalry, loyalty and honesty from childhood," Sylvain admitted, still smiling despite how strained it felt, "our core values are to be true."

"Oh," Claude crooned sympathetically, "a shame these values are still hard to come by there, then."

That was a slap. An intentional one. And Sylvain refused to show him that he struck a nerve. Because really, which ones of them were still true to themselves, by now? Not Ingrid who deluded herself with wild, childish dreams to forget her grief, not Dimitri who pretended he was fine when he sometimes woke up screaming at night, and definitely not Sylvain, who was as phony as they came...

"What can I say? Nothing like a King's assassination to make you realize that fairy tales aren't the truth."

"That's for sure." There was no wince to betray Claude. "I wonder how one can look at their king in the eye and profess their loyalty, and then betray him."

"Come on, you know that's not what happened."

"I know that neither Felix nor Dimitri, who was actually there, believe that Duscur is responsible. Sir Catherine also did tell us that there were traitors that conspired in the Kingdom. Accusing Duscur to direct attention away from the real culprits would make sense." Claude countered. “Sure I don’t have proof, but I can’t be the only one convinced that most of it was actually a Faerghan plot.”

"Fair points."

Fair points indeed. Sylvain didn't believe in Duscur’s guilt one second either, just by looking at the political landscape, something Claude was equally adept at, even if he didn't have insider's knowledge.

"I think I win," Claude said.

Sylvain's eyes darted to the board. Claude was right. He had him surrounded. He had also gotten a lot more from their conversation than Sylvain.

Conceding defeat was painful, even though it had been a lost game for a few minutes now. Sylvain felt angry. So he smiled. And Claude smiled back.

"It was fun," the leader said earnestly, "we should do that again sometimes!"

Sylvain smiled and waved at him instead of standing up, just so he couldn't see how his other hand was painfully clenched into a fist. Claude's smile seemed a bit more sincere than it was at the beginning of their battle. Not as much as it was with the wyvern, but more unguarded, as if he didn’t need to be worried about Sylvain after all...

Goddess, Sylvain hated him.

**19th day of the Wyvern moon, Imperial Year 1180**

The Golden Deer left for a lot of skirmishes, that month. Sylvain wasn't sure what was up with that, none of these missions had been scheduled in advance or directly sanctioned by the archbishop, but they left all the same. It might have been their way of training for the mock-battle, but if so it was a bit extreme.

Maybe that was why he wasn't surprised when there was a sudden hush in the monastery as they came home, that one day, sure sign that someone had been at least deeply hurt.

His own heart beat loudly and quickly at first, fear an icy grip on his chest, only warming up and calming down once he saw Felix, among the group, scowling but otherwise fine, by a sobbing Marianne's side. Hilda Goneril was busy reassuring her about whatever the reason for her distress was. Sylvain counted the heads and saw none missing.

But for some reason, the professor wasn't walking with them.

Instead, she was riding Marianne's horse, looking pale, as Yuri held the reins tightly. Claude was talking to her, although Sylvain couldn't see his face. The other Deers looked serious and silent.

It didn't take long for the verdict to reach them.

Professor Byleth Eisner, had insisted too much on a sore leg, breaking something important there. She was on forced rest for the next two weeks.

And as such, she'd miss the battle of the Eagle and the Lion.

Sylvain didn't know how he felt about that. On the one hand that made their victory much more probable. On the other hand, he couldn't stop the feeling that it was exactly what they had planned. Maybe because the professor was smiling a lot more these days, as if she was especially pleased by something. Also because once it had been said she'd make a full recovery, none of the Deers looked worried anymore.

"So," he asked Felix as his friend ate, quite coincidentally, on the very same table he had confronted Claude, "how are you going to do without the professor?"

"I don't know," Felix answered rolling his eyes, "how are you going to do without Hanneman?"

"Well, we've known we wouldn't have him for a while!"

"We asked the archbishop if Yuri was enough of an honorary Golden Deer to replace her in the line-up. She accepted, of course."

Of Course. Sylvain hummed and turned, finding the eye of Miriam, one of the priestesses that he had started courting recently. He winked and she blushed. Felix kicked him in the shin.

"Are you serious?" he hissed.

"Sorry, sorry," Sylvain laughed, "anyway, it means I'll get to face Yuri, heh? I can't wait to see what he can do. Same for you, of course, though I know you're going to kick my ass into a pulp!"

"I'm not participating."

Sylvain laughed again, almost convinced it was a joke. But Felix's glare, currently murdering his shoulder, was deadly serious. It was a glare Sylvain knew well, the one that showed how furious he was at the ‘unsightly way’ (to quote him) Sylvain could shamelessly flirt in public with someone he already planned to dump in a few days. Somehow that didn’t feel like the thing he should have been angry at...

"What?" Sylvain said, teasing to avoid his unease. "Felix Hugo Fraldarius? Not participating in a fight? What is the world coming to? Are you serious?"

"I am," Felix said curtly, "I don't see any interest in a mock-battle against people I've beaten a thousand times, just to impress a bunch of stuck-up nobles or get better grades, I already go that covered, thanks. So when we had to choose a student to stay on the bench, I said yes."

He said yes. Not he volunteered or anything, which meant that someone had convinced him. Sylvain was worried again.

"Are you certain?" he asked softly.

Felix glared harder if possible.

"What are you doing?"

"What?"

"What are you doing, suddenly acting as if I had been slighted and needed to be treated with care," the younger teen growled, "yes I am sure, I wasn't evicted due to not starting as a Golden Deer if you're wondering, Marianne was completely ready to volunteer to stay out of it, _I_ chose to be benched."

"Sure, sure. It's just hard to imagine you saying no to a fight."

Felix rolled his eyes once again.

"Well turns out I can when I don't see the point."

But how could he not see the point? How many three-way melees would Felix find himself in during his life? Impossible to know. How many times would he get to practice what to do in this kind of situation? Only once. Fighting in the battle of the Eagle and the Lion wasn't just a matter of honouring your house by showing how much better you had become. It was practice for a kind of situation that could be terribly confusing.

This kind of thinking didn't sound like Felix and Sylvain hated it.

But arguing would only make things worse, wouldn't it? Felix was stubborn and wouldn't take the worry well. So Sylvain swallowed and smiled pleasantly.

"Well I guess you'll have to regret it when we slaughter the Deers. They have no chance without you or the professor."

Felix raised an eyebrow, very much not impressed.

"And that," he said simply, "that way of thinking? It's the exact reason you'll lose."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me before I started writing this fic: "Claude and Sylvain would LOVE each other!"  
> Me when writing this chapter: "Scratch that, Claude would love the mind games but Sylvain would hate him because he doesn't exactly like himself and so he doesn't like people like him."  
> In truth, that board game session was one of the very first scenes I wrote in this fic xD Claude completely dunking on Sylvain at the end was unexpected but too fun to write not to keep, so in the end the game had a clear winner. Don't worry Sylvain, your pride will heal <3  
> About that moment with Yuri, well, first, the 'riddle' is a headcanon of mine that makes me laugh a lot and WILL get explored more later on, I promise. Then, since I didn't find anywhere to put it in my story, know that 'Claude's date' is him petting and feeding stray cats. It was entirely inspired by something I saw I don't remember where about Claude loving cats but not wanting anyone to know about it and that's why it's not a tea time conversation he enjoys xD  
> So next chapter is Ailell, heh? Well that's going to be a fun one. For you, not for me, I have to edit it far too much xD It was one of the first chapters I wrote, so a lot of it breaks continuity and that's a whoops, hopefully there won't be too much to change but I'll have to keep my eyes open for contradictions. I'll try not to take too long ;) As I already said, I don't like leaving on a flashback chapter for too long, since they don't advance the story all that much.  
> In any case, I hope you enjoyed it!


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judai goes to Ailell and meets someone interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Claude's eyes are the prettiest in the game, I don't make the rules. And that's someone like me, who is usually weak for orange/golden eyes who says that xD

**Chapter 12**

_I'll probably end up in flames_

_Before the end of the night_

_Watch me burn in the fire_

_Watch me bid you good-bye_

**29th day of the Pegasus Moon, Imperial Year 1185**

**Judai**

The journey to Ailell was terrible. Yubel had taken to giving him synonyms going from "unpleasant" to "I'd rather have a cactus up my ass than stay on that saddle any longer" to express how he was feeling exactly. Sure, the kind conversations he had with Rodrigue everytime they weren't galloping fast with Judai holding on for dear life helped taking his mind off things, like the terrible pain in his thighs and backside, but Judai barely had the necessary brain cells left to listen, all of them consumed by the wish to groan and moan and bitch and the effort taken _not_ to do that.

The Terrible Supreme King, he thought dramatically, defeated by a journey on a horse's back. 

At least Yubel was having fun at his expanse.

" _One day I'll go rest in ethereal form while you get to live through all of life's inconveniences, we'll see how funny that is._ "

" _Oh no, condemned to actually touch things and people, what shall I do?_ "

The air was getting warmer, but not in a good way. It was heavy and dry, like plunging in a cloud of hot smoke and wondering why your breath was having a hard time coming in and out. Yet despite the heat, he kept shivering, feeling almost nauseous. The closest they came to it, the more obvious it became.

Something awful had happened at Ailell. Something that had to do with the Light. And the closest they came to it, the less Yubel talked, taking refuge deep in his soul, out of fear of being burnt. Judai sent them comfort. Any comfort he could send when he was himself terrified.

The remnants of Light in the air were dead, unable to hurt anyone right now. But they were a reminder, a terrible one.

The Light was still there. The Light had been back at some point. 

_And Judai wasn't there to stop it._

"Judai, are you alright?"

Mercedes' voice brought him back to reality. She was sitting in front of him on the horse, leading it with more assurance than he'd ever have. Clearly, the young priestess could feel his unease.

"I will be," he exhaled, "I just... really don't like how this place feels."

Mercedes hummed, thoughtful.

"Well since Ailell was created due to the Goddess' wrath, then you must feel its remains. Do you want to stop?"

Sothis's wrath. There was no way for it be Sothis's wrath. Her Light wasn't that one, her Light was meant to heal the damage caused by that one.

Judai shook his head, refusing to stop.

Yet, as they drew closer, with even Ingrid landing with her Pegasus, too ill at ease to keep flying, there was one certitude that he had, and it scared him, more and more. He couldn't say how he knew that, he just did, and Yubel's mournful sighs, in his heart, showed that they knew it too.

Someone they loved had died here.

" _Fubuki,_ " he mumbled, voice choked with grief.

His presence was everywhere. Like a red hot iron mark that he could almost feel, burning against his skin, as burning as O’Brien’s fire was... He barely felt it when Mercedes stopped and went down from the horse.

"Judai?" she asked softly.

He let her help him down, still shivering, lost inside himself. There was another voice. Rodrigue? He and Mercedes were talking. He felt dizzy, unable to move.

Rodrigue's strong hand, on his shoulder, managed to bring him back.

"Is this too hard for you?" he asked kindly.

Judai shook his head, wanting to thank him but unable to. That kind man, that kind woman... They thought it was Holy wrath that made him sick. It wasn't. But where would he start, how could he explain what...

"I’m okay," he lied.

"We'll go to the side," Mercedes suggested, "it's not as hot there, but we still have a view of inside the crater. Maybe you'll feel better?"

"Sure," Rodrigue agreed, his worry obvious in his voice, "please do take care. Both of you. Ingrid and I will survey the other side of the crater and try to figure out where the battle is taking place."

"Yes, my Lord. Be careful, you and Ingrid."

Judai wasn't sure where Mercedes was leading him. Just that her hand was deceptively strong, almost carrying him all by herself until they finally reached that place with fresh air she was looking for.

Judai breathed heavily. It wasn't that much better, Fubuki's presence was still overwhelming, among the Light remnants. But at least he could breathe, think, recenter himself. He pushed his pain away, febrile fingers holding onto his own throat as if it could stop it from choking him. Not now, he swore to himself, he couldn’t break now, he was here for a reason, well, more than one, really. He needed to push it away, forget his heart for a few minutes. There would be time to scream and mourn and grieve later. Later, later, later…

After a while, he inhaled and looked at Mercedes.

"Thank you," he mumbled to the priestess.

"It's nothing," she answered softly.

She then pointed at a hole in the rocks, behind him.

"This place is a good observation point, so I intended to bring us here anyway. Can you see what's happening? Or should I watch instead?"

Judai threw a glance inside and...

A Volcano.

How had he not understood that Ailell was a volcano? Well there'd be time to feel stupid later. And inside the volcano, he could see people.

A lot of people, though not enough to be considered a full army. They were retreating, but not in a hurry. Whoever they were, the fight was won and they were done with it.

"The battle is over," he said, "the winners are leaving."

Mercedes gasped and rushed at his side. As she looked, he could see her physically sag in relief, exhaling. She pointed to the bulk of the retreating army, wearing yellow tunics.

"These are the colours of the Alliance," she explained, "that means they were the winners."

"Oh. That's good."

"Yes. But I hope Ashe is okay," Mercedes mumbled, surveying the smoke-hazy battlefield, "I don't see him anywhere."

There weren't many things that looked like corpses, from what Judai could see, but then again, maybe the battle had happened in another place and these were just the retreating winners, already halfway out of the fiery hell that was that 'Valley of Torment'. Judai definitely understood the moniker now.

"Oh," Mercedes then gasped, "that's Lady Judith of Daphnel!"

She pointed to a woman, leading parts of the troops. He couldn't see much from where he was, but her high ponytail was distinctive enough that he knew he'd recognize her were he to meet her up close, as long as she still wore it.

"Ingrid admires her a lot," Mercedes laughed, "she's going to be disappointed she missed her. But maybe it's a good thing, I would have felt guilty to have to stop her from meeting her idol."

Judai smiled a bit, not really joyful, emotions dull and sad, but feeling like it was the proper reaction. He was watching and watching, but not seeing who he hoped to see. Well, not like he had any chance without knowing the man.

"Do you see the Alliance leader?" he asked.

Mercedes looked a bit, then nodded, a graceful smile on her face. She pointed to a man, not particularly tall or large, standing alone with a small woman, not too far from where they were. Talking, just the both of them. He was dressed in gold.

"We need more info," he said, "I don't see any casualties. We can't know if the Alliance won or just struck a bargain with Rowe. I can go there and pretend to be an Alliance soldier, try to learn a bit about the situation."

It was horseshit and he knew it. But it was also true that they couldn't know the Alliance's intentions and that they needed to know more. He hoped Mercedes could hear that. Her smile was knowing, so maybe she did.

"Well," she started, "obviously I can't let one of our soldiers go there and risk being taken prisoner just because we wished for information can I?"

Judai laughed, the sound a bit forced, but amused anyway.

"Good thing I'm not a soldier yet, then?"

She tutted at him, like a mother reprimanding him for being reckless.

"Now, that seems unnecessary. However I need to see if the others aren't heat sick like you were. Do stay here even while I'm away and can't watch you, please."

That was an authorization if he had ever heard one. The moment Mercedes turned away from him to find Rodrigue and Ingrid, he slipped inside the crater and strode towards the man in Gold.

He had his back to him, allowing Judai to walk closer and closer. It was only when he was barely a few steps away that the Alliance leader turned to look at him.

Judai stared at him. He was, honestly, a beautiful sight. Tousled dark hair, a face nice to look at, sun-kissed skin, an adorable smile made more beautiful by the strange lighting and his eyes, by the gods, these green eyes should have been illegal. Judai was as weak against green eyes. Yubel knew that well and, of course, was laughing like there was no tomorrow.

" _He's not even your usual type,_ " they joked, ” _no blue hair._ ”

" _Just because someone isn't my type doesn't mean I can't think they’re beautiful!_ "

This made them laugh even more. Judai smiled just a bit despite himself, amusement piercing his numb veil. He remembered a time when Yubel had been a much more jealous person, the type who would have glared and maybe fought a little too hard anyone who dared steal his attention from them. He was more than happy they had mellowed so much on that part.

Feeling how much he loved them any time of the day, deep inside their soul, probably helped a lot, one had to admit.

The girl the golden beauty was talking to wasn't hard on the eyes either, with her elegant face and dress, luscious pink hair cascading from her pigtails. She didn't look like she belonged on a battlefield, yet here she was and with the way she seemed to be reporting on the state of things, he had a feeling she wasn't a simple foot soldier.

Both looked at him as he came closer and Judai immediately knew that his half-baked plan of pretending he was an Alliance soldier was doomed from the start. And that Mercedes probably knew it too, she was a smart person after all. With the way he spoke, he would have bet she had guessed he wanted to meet the Alliance leader... How kind she was to give him the opportunity while taking the fall if anything went wrong. He'd owe her one.

"Hello," he smiled at them, "so would you believe me if I said I belonged to one of the Alliance's battalions?"

"Probably not," the man answered him with an easy smile.

He didn't seem all that worried, though. Judai did do his best to look as unthreatening as possible (his small size, youthful face and scrawny appearance definitely helped he knew), so that was good.

"Can you pretend you believe me so my friend doesn't get in trouble?" he added.

The woman chuckled, hand against her lips.

"Oh no, he's cute. Claude, can we keep him?"

"Now now, that would get his friend in trouble, wouldn't it?"

His smile was knowing. Judai's became a bit more strained. With his spirits spying for him he wasn't really used to being the least knowledgeable person in a place.

"Well let's make this quick," he sighed, "how much do you know about who I am?"

"Hapi didn't have much to tell us," Claude admitted with a tilted head, "she only knew a few things. That the Kingdom had taken a shine to you, that you were coming to Ailell with lord Fraldarius, Ingrid and our dear Mercie, and that she couldn't find out how you reached such a high position in the Kingdom."

That wasn't much indeed. Judai nodded.

"Well, they found me with their prince, so I guess they decided that I had single-handedly kept him alive despite us only travelling together for three days and me having no idea who he was."

The woman gasped. She turned to her companion, whose smile had suddenly become smaller, almost shocked, overwhelmed.

"She was right," she said, "she was right!"

Claude coughed once in his fist. His smiling mask was firmly in place once again as he raised his head and Judai had an inkling he knew why Sylvain seemed to dislike the guy.

"So Dimitri really is alive," Claude simply said softly, "we had heard reports saying it was a possibility, but it's not as if we felt like we could hope."

His voice wasn't exactly shaking, but there were definitely feelings he couldn't hide in it. Relief, mostly. Whatever the Alliance's leader felt for the prince of Faerghus, he obviously didn't think of him as an enemy. That was good. Now Judai only really had to convince Rodrigue and Gilbert that this keeping the Alliance at bay attitude of them was useless, even if he didn’t know where to start. His newfound status as ‘holy man’ (he shivered at that thought) was still mostly play-pretend after all, a simple figurehead... Figuring that wasn’t the time to get lost in his thoughts, Judai surveyed the soldiers walking, healing and evacuating the heat infested space. There were few of them.

"You have less men than I expected," he said, "is that just a token force?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Claude teased.

Judai laughed, almost a reflex more than conscious amusement. He could feel the awe colouring his throat.

"If you really did take all of your forces to battle, here, that makes it even more impressive. I don't know how you managed so many victories with such small means."

The woman seemed to glow with pride at that. She elbowed her leader with amusement.

"Actually it's a good thing we're not keeping him, he'd flatter your ego far too much."

"Excuse me," Claude answered in mock offense, "I can keep my pride in check. You're not the one who has had to listen to the Alliance lords for years and distinguish sincere compliments from demeaning flattery."

Their banter felt natural somehow, not rehearsed, but still calculated, giving him only what they wanted to let him know. The smiles were tentative, a truce, but the eyes were distrustful.

" _A shame,"_ Yubel crooned in his ear, " _I'd like to see these beautiful green eyes alight with warmth._ "

" _You like teasing me, don't you?_ "

" _It's my purpose in life, love, you know it._ "

The pink-haired woman giggled and turned to him again.

"So, what brings an esteemed Kingdom guest here? This heat can't be good for your fur-wearing kind. You're going to burn if you stay for too long."

"Lord Fraldarius just wanted to know the battle's winners," he answered, "the Kingdom's position isn't good as you probably already know."

There wasn't any reason to pretend they were doing well when they were barely putting themselves back together so they could follow Dimitri in his mad dash towards Enbarr. No use looking more threatening than they really were.

"We needed to know whether we risked having Count Rowe knocking at our door soon."

The woman mumbled something about some ‘Lord Gwendal’ and him being too stubborn for his own good. Claude winced and bumped her shoulder.

"His main forces are dealt with, don’t worry. Now, Hilda, could you go check if Ashe is fine?"

The woman - Hilda as was her name - huffed.

"We're in a war," she said with more severity than Judai expected, "none of us is fine."

As if she hadn't talked, Claude kept going, pushing her away.

"Could you tell him that there are Kingdom Envoys here and ask him if he wants to leave with them? And while you're there, please see to Yuri too, you know he needs it."

Hilda froze in her tracks, then nodded with a grumble.

"Fine," she sighed petulantly, "but only because you can't do it yourself right now."

She turned to Claude, giving him something Judai couldn't see, and then left hurriedly. Ashe and Yuri. That wasn't the first time Judai had heard either name. He didn't have time to think about it for much longer, Claude turned towards him once more.

"You told me why the Kingdom was here," he said with his infuriatingly cute little smile, "which I could have guessed by myself. What I was asking was why you, a mysterious young man who came out of nowhere, decided to leave his observation post to talk to me precisely."

He was still inviting, shoulders lax, but Judai was very conscious of the way his fingers rested, not far from the axe sheathed near his thigh. This was someone used to assassins. That he had just sent his advisor away was a sign of trust, but it couldn't be seen as a sign of weakness. If someone were to attack him, this leader would definitely not go down easy.

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?" Judai said without heat. "If I had to answer, I'd simply say... Felix spoke highly of you."

And just as he said that, the real reason the man had wanted him to meet Claude was obvious and Judai felt stupid for not realizing it earlier. There was something small fluttering on Claude's face as Judai said that, softening his whole face. Fondness. Judai almost felt himself smile, relieved to see that the angry and hurt young man was clearly right to believe in the Alliance's leader's friendship. He might also have been just slight aggravated by how, clearly, him wanting Judai to meet Claude was much more for Claude’s benefit than Judai’s.

"Felix is alright, then?" Claude said and Yubel was right, his eyes were really beautiful when full of warmth. "I guess his way of 'speaking highly of me' was something like 'he's not the worst person in the world' or 'he's a decent tactician?'"

It wasn't so much in words that Felix spoke highly of Claude as much as in actions. In trust. Felix, who insulted his prince, who didn't care for chivalry, who fought for the living and didn't seem to find much passion in life outside of fighting (and even that was tempered by hurt and exhaustion and all the awfulness of war) had said once that the man was his friend and that Judai should go to him for answers. And he had said so in a soft voice. He had twitched anytime Gilbert or Rodrigue refused to send a messenger to the Alliance, anytime Sylvain or Ingrid referred to his time in the Golden Deer with less than positive feelings. Frustration, more than anger or hurt.

"He said you'd have more answers for me than the Kingdom does," Judai said, "but now that I think about it, I believe he mostly wanted you to interrogate me."

Because no one, not even Sylvain had seemed to ask the right questions to determine what Judai was. Sylvain had learnt about Yubel and called him holy, a lot had mumbled about the resemblance between his tomb and the one of the goddess, some had tried dripping their toes into his supposed mysticism. But none had dared really admitting out loud that he could be anywhere close to their Goddess or the Saints. Because what did that mean in a place as focused on Faith as the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus? No one wanted to risk suspecting there could be such a profound link between some unknown boy and an all-seeing all-powerful Goddess. He would be a holy person, at best. An envoy. No one would look further, too scared of discovering something they weren’t meant to.

"Interrogate you," Claude's eyes were gleaming, "good old Felix. He has a talent for gifts, doesn't he. A shame we'll have to make this quick."

"Let's hurry then," Judai agreed, "can you just tell me if the Alliance intends to move into the Kingdom for now? Unless it's a secret."

"Probably not. That honestly wouldn't be a viable strategy right now, too many unknowns. We intend to fight our way inside the Empire instead."

"From Garreg Mach if I understand well."

"Indeed."

Which probably meant taking that bridge everyone was talking about. Judai nodded, figured there’d be no time to say everything and started with what he figured would interest Claude the most.

"I woke up in a tomb," he said, "on a throne."

He could see Claude's eyes widen.

"I'm from much before," he kept going, "when the Goddess still walked among men. When crests didn't exist, and neither did the Empire. And there are a lot of things that seem absolutely nonsensical to me in the way History is told today, which I believe is what you’re interested in."

Claude was staring at him, smile gone, but eyes glowing. There was hunger in his gaze, sheer curiosity and desire to _know_ on the way his lips were curling slowly upwards.

"Oh how I regret telling Hilda we couldn't keep you," he mumbled, "do you think you can stay here longer without our dear Mercie getting in trouble?"

"Unfortunately, I think this will be all for today," Judai answered with his own wry smile, "but I dare hope that once you make your move against the Empire more obvious, I might be able to convince lord Fraldarius to give you a chance."

"I hope so," Claude added with a touch of humour, "how sad I'd be if the key to all the things I've ever wondered about were to die up north."

He didn't have to worry about that, but for the moment, only Dimitri knew about how hard he was to kill, and it was an accident. So Judai just smiled politely. A shadow passed on Claude's face.

"You said _I_ , but you shouldn’t be the only one trying to convince them. Are they not listening to Felix?"

"They seem to believe his point of view is compromised."

Claude let a small, bitter laugh escape him.

"They think the most critical of them would tell them a bad idea is good just because he happens to be friends with me. Typical of them."

"What do you mean?"

Claude's eyes were somber and his smile a pretense.

"None of them ever really asked why he transferred did they? Or if they did, they accepted an obvious lie. That he wanted Teach's tutelage - you've got to meet Teach by the way, too bad we won't have the time."

"What do you mean? That's what I heard too. That Felix transferred because he wanted the Golden Deer's professor."

It hadn’t sounded like a lie back then, Judai had just thought that if there were other reasons, none of them was that important. Claude rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh.

"Felix's tragedy is that he makes a lot of good points but doesn't know how to articulate them. Instead, he keeps letting the chaos of his emotions dictate his words. From what I've learned, he's always been like that. And that means that the people who grew up with him learnt the lesson you usually learn when a child is clearly being unreasonable and throwing a tanthrum, and that's to not listen to them."

His stare was heavy with meaning.

"He says 'I won't serve the dead', they don't realize he means 'I want to serve the living." He says 'I trust Claude' they hear 'I don't trust the Kingdom'. He says 'Chivalry doesn't bring anything good', they hear that he doesn't respect their values when he means that he'd rather have the men be alive at the end of a battle, even if it means tricking the enemy."

Judai inhaled, nodding slowly. Different priorities. It didn't mean one was wrong and the other was right. It was just different. Something Claude seemed acutely aware of as he crossed his arms, annoyed.

"They don't listen to him. They never have, they probably never will if even now they don’t understand. They hear his words, but they don't listen. They push all he says away, not caring about the meaning hidden behind it. I've had Felix in my class for less than seven months and when you listen to him, it's amazing how much he flourishes. Give and take. Give him an inch, he'll give you the same. That's not what happens in Faerghus. What they ask is not something he’s willing to give, but they don’t realize it, because for them, it’s as natural as breathing."

Judai thought of Sylvain sparring with Felix the moment he was back in Fraldarius, knowing it was how his friend relaxed. Of Ingrid's tearful eyes when she looked at him, sometimes, because she hated just how miserable he was. Maybe Claude was a bit uncharitable, but he also remembered the way so many people - Rodrigue included - had dismissed Felix's callous words about Dimitri, maybe undeserved, but not devoid of truth.

Yes. He saw what Claude meant.

"They're going to lose him if they keep going like that," Judai sighed.

"No they won't," Claude added with a sad smile, "Felix is too loyal for his own good. And he loves them. He'll never give up on them. We can just hope that they learn, all of them. After all, they love him too. They’re his friends."

"He's your friend too."

"He is."

And there was wonder in his voice, right there. As if said friendship was more precious than he could ever have imagined. Judai tilted his head, curious. Claude just smiled, but guarded, so guarded. A lot like Sylvain… Oh, Judai thought, he was pretty sure he had it.

” _Trust,_ ” Yubel said pensively, _”for some people there’s nothing more precious._ ”

"Ah," Claude exclaimed, "before you leave. Hilda had something for him. He sent us a letter to warn us that he wouldn't be there at our reunion in Garreg Mach, but she'd still hoped, so she had a gift prepared."

He smiled again. Small but sincere.

"Could you give it to him? It's just a small thing she made."

Of course he could. Claude put what Hilda gave him into his palm. It was a ribbon, the kind you tied your hair with. It had been skillfully woven with blacks and grays, and a shiny silvery pendulum-like form was hanging from it, a metallic ornament, though so pointy Judai felt like he could stab someone’s eye with it. It was very simple and that was all its beauty. From how decorated her dress had been, he had expected something more frivolous. But that was obviously underestimating her. She was friends with Felix after all, wasn't she? She knew he enjoyed practical things.

Judai nodded and tucked it preciously inside his pocket.

"I hope to see you soon," he said as a goodbye.

"Likewise." Claude answered. He then craned his neck, towards the place his men were still walking to. "It looks like Ashe isn't coming... Well, we'll make sure he's okay, you can tell his friends. Be careful, out there."

Judai just nodded, and then left without turning back. From the footsteps he could hear, Claude did the same.

Rodrigue was expecting him when he came out of the crater. He looked like a father who had just caught his child with his hand inside the cookie jar. Judai felt sheepish, though not as intimidated by the man’s knowing expression as he was by Ingrid’s glare.

"The Alliance doesn't have any intention of entering the Kingdom's lands." He said, trying to hide his embarrassment. “And Rowe’s forces were defeated.”

Rodrigue smiled at him, as if amused, though maybe a bit reproachful. Relieved, mostly.

"Do I want to know how you can be so sure?" the lord said, less a question and more resignation.

"Does it matter?"

The lord sent a glance to Mercedes. She looked at him with the most serene and innocent face he had ever seen. Ingrid was glaring at her, now, clearly uncomfortable with how she had left Judai alone in a place where he could have so easily betrayed them.

"Well, Ingrid and I reached the same conclusion," Rodrigue said fondly, "from what we observed, Ailell was indeed a way for the Alliance to join Riegan's forces with Daphnel's. They're going back to their operation base in Garreg Mach, right now, if what Bergliez said is to be believed."

Which meant that the path towards the Empire was free. Judai gulped and nodded. Mercedes and Ingrid looked grave too. They all knew what it meant. But none of them could be sure whether it was a good thing or not.

“Truth being said,” Rodrigue admitted slowly, “I had hoped to talk with the Alliance leader myself. But I think it’s better this way. I fear the Alliance would not have welcomed me as easily as it did you.”

Oh. Judai felt a bit bad, now. Maybe they could have learnt more had Rodrigue gone instead of him? But they would have needed to hide him… If whoever had betrayed the Alliance’s position to the Empire was still there, Rodrigue’s presence would have put them all in danger...

“Really? Why is that.” he asked anyway.

Rodrigue looked profoundly tired for a moment, his face that of a man torn between too many choices and knowing that none was perfect.

“I could not have given him an alliance,” he said simply, crushing Judai’s hopes with just one, weary sentence, “so it’s better that he talked with one who did not have the power to suggest one.”

Judai opened his mouth. And then closed it again. He didn’t understand. What was going on? Ingrid looked somber too, but not surprised, and Mercedes’ eyes were sad, but clearly, it was no surprise for her either.

“So silent acceptance it is,” she sighed, “we just try to ignore each other. I figure we can’t hope for more.”

Judai looked between all three of them, not understanding what they were getting at. When they started going back to the horses, he caught up to Rodrigue, not sure what he wanted to ask, exactly, too many questions and none of them good enough. He settled on one, not the most vital one, but one he had asked himself a few times during the journey, but never as much as he did right now.

“Lord Rodrigue! Why… didn’t Felix come with us? Is it because he knew that would be your decision?”

“It’s not really my decision,” the man sighed, “it’s circumstances dictating it, I can still hope they will change… I dislike them deeply, but I suspect Felix knew it would come to this too. Or feared it would, in any case. Knowing that, I figure he declined coming for the very same reason he declined participating in the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, years ago.”

The Battle of the Eagle and the Lion? Judai had heard that name a few times, when Annette and Mercedes mentioned their school days. He didn’t know much about it, didn’t even know that Felix hadn’t participated.

“And why is that?”

Rodrigue looked wistful, lips almost stretched into a small smile. It was an expression that didn’t have the right to be so sad.

“So he doesn’t have to make a choice he's not ready for.”

The way back had been less hurried and thus much less painful, even if the atmosphere was sad and heavy. It shouldn’t have been, their trip had been mostly good news after all. And Judai had actually been allowed to walk for a bit. And when they had left the beasts rest, he had gotten to pet Ingrid's Pegasus. Somehow, that small act had made her look at him with surprise and a bit more respect and fondness than before. “ _His name is Calisto,_ ” she had said, “ _he likes it when you pet his right ear._ ” If he had known showing kindness to animals was the key to unlocking her first friendship level, he would have stalked the castle's cats whenever she was near… Well, no use dwelling on what he didn’t do, was there.

When they reached Castle Fraldarius, someone was waiting for them. Gilbert, looking tense and accompanied by his daughter. Rodrigue's smile put them at ease.

And then it was war council time. Judai stared ahead the whole time, barely listening to their travel plans. He already knew what they were planning on, a route that would take them through Leicester lands, hopefully lands that would be devoid of opposition, making it safe and no fighting necessary. Keeping Dimitri away from violence, hoping it'd help settling his mind. Gilbert said he looked more at ease these last days. Judai had looked at the prince for one second and known he was deluding himself.

Felix's glare showed that he too knew it. That Dimitri wasn't calmer. He was prowling around in the Temple, like a beast that'd pounce on the first prey they dared put under his nose. Judai disliked that analogy deeply, but it was the only one he could think of right now. Maybe moving, not being stuck here like he had been for now two months could indeed help Dimitri. Judai just really hoped it wouldn't be at anyone's expense.

There were a thousand plans swirling inside his head, that would make theirs less dangerous or at least less useless. None of them had any chance of success if they didn't separate from at least half their forces.

There was no way anyone would agree to that, it would be too dangerous to separate their forces in half right now. So he closed his eyes, trying his best not to retreat inside himself.

A commotion made him open his eyes again. Ingrid was blurting Felix's name, other people gasping in shock, Rodrigue sighing deeply. Felix stomping away from the room.

Judai looked at him go, wondering what he had missed. He turned to Rodrigue. The lord looked so terribly sad, once again. His eyes met Judai's and he nodded slightly. A silent demand. Judai nodded too and followed Felix quietly.

The young man walked fast, anger in his steps, an almost desperate tint to the brisk way he moved. If Judai didn't know him enough to be sure he never would do so in public, he would have expected him to burst out crying, frustration breaking him. He only slowed down when he neared the Temple.

Dimitri.

Felix didn't enter the Temple to take back his vigil. Instead, he turned to Judai, looking livid. Judai opened his mouth and closed it again. ‘Are you okay’ sounded like a superfluous and silly question.

"I talked to Claude," he said instead.

Felix didn't glare any less. He crossed his arms instead, scoffing.

"And did he sound like an unreasonable, untrustworthy bastard of a man?"

"Not really, no."

More like a curious kid, too smart for his own good. Much smarter than Judai, he was pretty sure. While Judai didn’t expect him to have answers for him right now, with just what he had told him, he could almost see it: their next meeting with the Alliance leader, the man holding a journal telling Judai all he needed to know, having found all the clues in the world. It was a silly dream, an impossible one, but he could almost imagine it, with that thirst for knowledge that had been burning like green flames in his eyes. Claude would search for the answers Judai seeked, that was for sure, now. But would he find anything? Would he have the time?

"He's going to fight the Empire," Judai added.

"And we're going into his lands for the very same purpose," Felix growled, "so why is none of these absolutely dumbasses even _considering_ asking for an alliance or even just a truce?!"

Despite Rodrigue’s defeated tone at the time, Judai had no answer. And Felix clearly knew it because he didn't wait for him before turning to the Temple, glaring harder.

"It's all on him," he hissed, "he can barely distinguish his allies from his enemies. Who knows what he'd do to anyone not dressed in blues. All of Caspar's men have been staying in nearby barracks instead of here for the very reason that we’re not sure what he'd do to them."

He started pacing, nervous energy betraying his desperation more than his rage.

"Getting allies would be the smart thing to do but no! Since when are we smart? What matters is that the Boar isn't displeased, that we follow him until the end, that we obey his orders without discussion no matter how terrible. How does that make us any better than the damn _witch_ exactly? Following a bloodthirsty leader trampling on people for their own gain, no matter how they'll try to pretend they do it for others, it's the exact same!"

Judai let him rant. It felt like catharsis, Felix had been thinking and saying these things for days, maybe years. And just as Claude said, no one had listened to him. So he let the words wash over him, thinking about them. Because they were true, from a certain point of view. Truth wasn't unilateral.

"Following him when he's like that is insane, it's suicide. Does the old man even _think_ that he'll be able to rein him in if we have to fight? If so he's even more stupid than I thought, I don't think even _Dedue_ could get through to him right now..."

And there only Felix faltered, his voice pettering out as if out of breath. The few seconds of silence he let out said a lot.

Judai didn't know much about Dedue. He was part of the Blue Lions. He was very close to Dimitri. He had apparently died saving him, likely the last nail in the coffin of Dimitri's sanity.

Felix didn't care much for Dedue, Judai had thought, but these seconds of silence were proof, if any was needed, that he still cared enough for this death to deeply wound him, more than he liked to show. He opened his mouth again, likely to restart his ranting despite how the flame had died, replaced by hopelessness, desperation.

Judai hated that look.

"You don't have to watch over Dimitri," he said.

Felix stopped, looking at him with surprise.

"You don't have to," Judai repeated, "if it hurts you. I can do it."

"It doesn't..."

"I will do it," he interrupted his lie, "but before, I have something for you."

Hilda's ribbon was warm in his pocket. It felt warmer, even, when he put it in Felix's hand. Felix stared at it, and then at him as if he was seeing him for the first time. Likely, he knew exactly what it was.

"It's a gift from one of your friends," Judai said softly anyway, "apparently, they wished to give it to you themselves some time ago, but life happened."

Felix's dead amber eyes had surged to life, going through so many emotions at the same exact moment Judai didn't have time to try to decipher any of them. So he just smiled, hoping it'd be enough to drag him, even just briefly, from that hole of despair he had sunk into. Soon enough, Felix's eyes turned to the ground and he nodded briskly. When he left, without another word, his fingers were clenched around the ribbon like a lifeline.

Judai watched him go, feeling his heart fracture. He didn’t know if Felix really had transferred because of Byleth Eisner. But one thing was sure; this keeping the Alliance at bay attitude was hurting him. Deeply. He didn’t understand Rodrigue’s decision. He knew there had to be a reason, obviously, the man had looked so deeply sad after all… But he couldn’t figure it out for the life of him and really, was he in any position to ask? He hoped he would understand, in time, because right now, the only thing he could think was that it felt like a terrible mistake...

Feeling morose, Yubel humming softly, too sad themselves to really comfort him, he went to the Temple and Dimitri, making sure the prince was still alive, sitting on a bench, and closing his eyes. He let his mind let go of all he had learnt and focus on the part that had hit him the hardest of all, the part he had desperately pushed aside until now, to focus on what he needed to do, to not break as long as he was needed.

He let his mind fall on Fubuki and his heart shatter into pieces, all over again.

And soon enough, he let himself break down and cry, hysterically, in that lonely, holy place, where the only presences were ghosts and one single man, deaf to the cries of the living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry no Seteth in the party :( Judai still has a way to go before finding out what happened to his people... (And I'm so sorry for Fubuki D': I promise I'll explain my reasoning, sooner or later ;; He's one of my faves too and it hurt me to think about what had happened to him...) Also I swear the reasons behind that decision, towards the end, will be explored and it's not just dumb plot reasons so they don't unite forces too quickly (well, it is, I needed to find a reason for my plot to happen after all, but I swear I thought about it and didn't simply go 'it just be like that mate').  
> As I mentioned last chapter I had to do a ton of editing because back when I was writing this chapter, the reason why Sylvain and Ingrid are all over Felix wasn't clear in my head yet but the distaste Faerghans had towards the Alliance for not helping them in the last five years was a lot more present than it currently is. As said animosity died down during writing, I started trying to figure out what had happened between the three of them, exactly, and let's just say I will soon post a chapter that won't be in this story but on a side one. That side story will only contain bonus chapters happening outside the main story, and the first of them will explore the event that made them go 'not letting him out of my sight' while giving him the impression that they don't trust him. :'(  
> Anyway, I should stop talking about how NEXT CHAPTER WILL... But I feel like I should warn a bit that the next two or so chapters will be slightly distached from the Judai storyline (well, the first is a flashback so that makes sense, but it's more unusual for the second one). However, they were two of my favourite chapters to write, so I hope you'll like them anyway!


	14. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hilda really wants to finish up these accessories. The world doesn't seem to agree with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fun thing I don't think I've mentioned yet is the lyrics at the beginning of the chapter. They're a fun thing to talk about for me, because the great majority of them come from playlists I've started for some of the characters. Except I end up never using them for the character to which said playlist is dedicated. For example, the song from this chapter (and the next one, since it's the same) is, depending on my mood, on my Yuri or my Claude playlist, and here I am using, it for Hilda. It's basically been like that the whole fic which I think is pretty funny x)  
> Anywho, this was one of my favourite chapters to write but also probably the one that surprised me the most! Here I was, thinking 'Great! I'm not writing someone depressed for once!' and then surprise angst anyway. Let's focus on Hilda's fear of disappointing people and hatred for battle for a good portion of the chapter! Yay! Well that happened. Angst as an accident, I should write that in my resume...

**Chapter 13**

_A fire's gotta burn_

_The world is gonna turn_

_A rain has gotta fall_

_Fate is gonna call_

_But I just keep on breathing_

_Long as my heart is beating_

**7th day of the Ethereal Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

**Hilda**

This was going to be difficult. But for once, this was a challenge Hilda felt ready to tackle. As she looked at her work plans and what she had accomplished, she was confident she could do it. Maybe. If the world agreed to be nice to her. She was still lacking a lot of fabric after all...

But whatever, it didn't matter. She'd do it because it was a matter of pride and friendship, she could prove to herself that she wasn't a failure (not in that aspect a treacherous voice reminded her).

The White Heron Cup and the Ball were approaching, and with the gloom and doom that the incident at Remire had brought, there was absolutely no way she could fail there.

All of her classmates would get pretty accessories for the Ball, or her name wasn't Hilda Valentine Goneril.

She had plans for all of them. And she had already started anything and everything she could start. Some of them were even almost finished. If only the fabric in the marketplace could come in other shades than the dull greys and browns of the last few days, this was supposed to be a party after all! She couldn't let them go dressed like sad and depressed children or as if they were going to the sauna. No, she had to be there, to bring colour to their lives and their wardrobes, pretty accessories that'd make them shine even brighter than they already did.

But she really needed that fabric to keep going.

So once again, as she had done every afternoon since she had started that crazy plan of hers, she went to the marketplace, looking desperately for bright shades that would suit her dear friends. She wanted a baby blue for Marianne, the kind that'd make her look ethereal. she wanted to make a shawl, gleaming with shiny gems, she even had the gems in her hand to compare. She wanted to make the kind of accessory that was both discrete and beautiful, like her sweet friend. She wanted fabric for many others too, like Ignatz and Yuri. But she still wasn't sure about the shades she wanted, and the absence of choice definitely wasn't helping her inspiration.

The merchant watched her look through her collection with eyes full of pity.

"So sorry, miss," she said, "we still haven't gotten new shipments. The roads have been dangerous in the Alliance, recently, it makes travel slower."

Hilda groaned, wondering if she should petition the Church so they helped take care of the issue. Not just for fabric business of course, but because it had been far too long, obviously. Lorenz's father clearly couldn't manage on his own if this was still going on.

"Hilda."

Professor Byleth's voice froze her in her tracks. She turned slowly, throat heavy, fear slowing her down as she knew, she just knew the expression that must be on her face. And yes, indeed, the professor was looking at her with these disappointed eyes she literally saw in her nightmares sometimes. Hilda turned her eyes away, feeling her chest turn to ice, freezing her lungs, wetness behind her eyes.

"Don't look at me like that," she begged, "my chores are done. Someone owed me, so they did it for me today. I swear I didn't just slack off."

A small silence answered her. When she dared look at the professor, the disappointment had mercifully disappeared, replaced by curiosity. Professor Byleth was staring at something, in Hilda's hands.

The gems.

Well, at least it wasn't what she was planning for the professor.

"What is that?" She was genuinely curious.

"I'm making accessories!" Hilda said, relieved, heart warming again with joy. "It's for everyone to wear at the Ball. Well, at least, if I manage to finish them."

Which was strangely defeatist of her. There was a small voice, annoyingly sounding like her brother's, reminding her that she had worked so hard to be worth nothing, that it shouldn't surprise her if she were to have succeeded.

No, no, bad Hilda thoughts.

Professor Byleth was looking at her, most definitely still curious. There was something else on her face, something weird.

"That's a lot of work," she said, "don't pressure yourself."

"Don't worry!" Hilda laughed. "I really like doing it, so there's no pressure!"

Yes there was, there was pressure. Why was she doing this to herself?

"I'm glad then," the professor smiled, "speaking of the Ball, may I have your advice?"

"Oh, I don't know, professor, I'm very bad at giving advice."

They had started walking together, away from the marketplace. The professor's long legs were slower today, Hilda could follow without forcing herself to adopt a bouncing step.

"It's about the representative," Byleth admitted, "I was thinking of asking Yuri, but as he's not really an official student, I fear we might be accused of cheating."

Oh yes, Yuri would have been a great choice. Just him twirling around, dressed in the dancer garbs Hilda had once seen in illustrations, and she just knew no one would have been able to look at anyone else. But the professor was also right about the 'not an official student' aspect...

"I then thought about Felix."

Hilda stumbled and started laughing despite herself.

"Do not laugh," the professor said, though her lips were twitching up too, "he definitely has the grace necessary, plus it could have helped him improve his footwork, which he might have appreciated if not for the fact that he would absolutely hate dancing in front of everyone."

"Yeah," Hilda laughed, "let's choose someone who will at least try to win, for our house's pride's sake. Like me, for example."

"I can't," the professor said, "especially not now that I know what a great task you have started. You would never have the necessary time for both of these endeavours."

She was right and Hilda blushed, grateful despite everything. She would have loved to participate as a free contestant, to be honest. But the expectations on her, were she to be her class representative? Not so fun.

"Also, I hear we'll be competing against Dorothea. She'll bring her sword, I'm sure. An axe is not as graceful as a sword."

And Hilda didn't want to learn how to use the sword in less than three weeks thank you very much. She was indeed not the right choice. (As always, why would you be surprised or disappointed?)

She asked politely these thoughts to disappear back inside the saddest parts of her head, and smirked at the professor.

"What about Claude?" she whispered.

The professor honest-to-the-Goddess _pouted_ at that.

"Believe it or not, he was my first choice. But he sounded so _panicked_ at the idea that I couldn't, I mean, if Claude is too rattled to hide his fear behind his usual confidence, then you know he's really scared... And this is supposed to be a joyful occasion, so I'm not going to force anyone..."

That made an awful lot of sense. From what she had seen, Claude was a graceful and charming person who definitely knew how to move his body. But so many things of Fodlan, especially _noble_ Fodlan, seemed absurdly foreign to him, it wasn't surprising dancing would be one of these things (maybe one day he'd tell her where he was from, but even she could admit that she hadn't done much for him to trust her with such personal information.). And as much as he joked and talked about his status as an outsider, using it as if it were a brand, something he was proud of, it was painfully obvious, after a few months, how much of it was a defence mechanism, justifying his insecurities.

She supposed it wasn't easy, being suddenly thrown into the grasp of devious Alliance Nobles who would eat him alive were they given the occasion. For such an _outsider_ he had done a remarkable job, but it wasn't exactly in the habit of anyone, in Leicester, to give this kind of honest compliment. Maybe she'd try to sneak one or two, they couldn't have a leader who was mentally breaking down as everyone watched and no one helped, could they?

"I have a hard time imagining Claude panicking," she laughed instead of mentioning any of her thoughts, "I'll believe it once I see it. But if he's not an option, then what about Flayn? She'd be overjoyed."

The professor wondered for a while, but when she turned towards her, her eyes were sparkling.

"Hilda," she said seriously, "thank you for your insight. I hope you know that your observation skills are one of your most wonderful abilities."

Warmth exploded on Hilda's cheeks and she recoiled in surprise, babbling incredulous, flattered noises. What was she... That was... How...

"I hope you find the time to finish your work before the Ball," the professor added before leaving, "especially since we'll probably be leaving later today."

Yes, she hoped the same... Wait, leaving? What?

No time to react, the professor had already disappeared, with those quick strides of hers, probably to ask Flayn to represent them at the dancing competition.

They were leaving? But they had no task this month, what was happening? As she spied around, she found Catherine and Shamir, talking. They were smiling, but armed and ready to depart. Maybe it had something to do with what the professor had said? They looked serious. As she came closer, Catherine's booming voice was strangely subdued, forcing Hilda to pay attention if she wanted to hear what she was saying.

"I don't know," the blonde knight was saying, "it's weird sometimes, it speaks in stilted phrases. And it tells me things, about the crests for example. I thought it was some kind of instinct but it's more like a voice."

"Instinct or not," Shamir answered firmly, "if it saved your life so many times, then I thank its existence and you should too."

Catherine looked flustered and _oh by the Saints was she blushing_? Hilda was definitely putting that into the gossip bag for later. Too bad she had other questions to ask.

"Heey," she greeted them loudly so they wouldn't suspect she was listening to them, "I see you two are ready to leave the monastery grounds. Nothing too dangerous I hope?"

Catherine smiled at her, sharp and kind of aggressive, but not unkind.

"Nothing to do with you," Shamir said sternly.

"Don't act like that," her partner laughed, "it's just a patrol. You don't have to worry."

"Oh, I see!" Hilda exclaimed. So it had nothing to do with what the professor had been saying. "Well, if your patrol can help the merchants join the monastery faster, then I'll be glad! I've been looking for blue fabric, and there's been nothing in the past days, so..."

She rambled, utterly boring the two knights, though she knew it. Harmless. Not a mean little eavesdropper, not a worried student who feared leaving the place, just a vain harmless girl who wanted to make pretty clothes. Exactly what she wanted them to think of her, exactly what she _wanted_ to be for the others.

It wasn't even really a lie, she desperately wanted to strike some of the materials from the list of missing supplies she had, that stayed painfully long despite the date coming nearer. 

And of all the accessories she was planning, more than any other, she wanted the one for Marianne to be perfect. Because Marianne was sweet and shy, but thought she didn't deserve anything nice despite deserving everything, and she always looked so close to making a terrible mistake, Hilda didn't know how to help. She didn't know, but if a gift, the proof that someone cared for her, was enough to bring her just enough happiness, then she wanted it to be _absolutely perfect_.

Marianne was far from the only one, though. And she needed things for all of them.

Funnily enough, Felix had been the easiest to find a gift for. Utilitarian and discrete, a hair ribbon would be perfect. But something so simple lacked personality, she thought, she wanted it to be precious. So she would weave it herself, she had decided, but she still hadn't found the right shade of silver. His hair was so beautiful after all (and she had been incredibly happy, the one time she had sneaked a peek into his room, to realize that he clearly took care of it and that it wasn't unfairly shiny and silky for no reason), she wanted the ribbon to be the perfect compliment.

She also needed something for what she had planned for Claude, the jewel wasn't the right size and she didn't have her carving gear with her, having left it back home...

Her thoughts stopped as she walked through the courtyard.

Monica von Ochs was speaking with Edelgard, once again.

She didn't like Monica von Ochs.

She didn't like Edelgard either if she had to be honest, but when you were smart you usually didn't say out loud that you disliked the heiress of the continent's biggest power. Even someone as disconnected from politics as Hilda Goneril knew that.

But Hilda prided herself on her instincts, and she deeply disliked Edelgard. The more she saw her, the least at ease she was. And so often, during the night, in her room, she could hear her. Not what she said, but voices, flashes, more than once she had woken up, hearing the princess leave in the middle of the night, her steps trying to be soft, but still heavy and clicking, as if she were wearing armor.

She was the shadiest person she had met until Monica von Ochs came along with a cheery smile and took her place, while talking to her, so happily, so often, so disturbing. Even Hubert, for all his dark en broody mannerism and his lazy smirk didn't look as shady as these two girls.

More than once, after some of these nights when Edelgard had disappeared, not as silently as she hoped, clearly, before coming back near morning, she had thought of warning someone. But who would care for her suspicions? Because it was all there was, wasn't it? Suspicions. If she went to Seteth and told him she found the girl disturbing and that she acted weirdly when no one was looking, surely he would at best ask the princess not to wake up her neighbour. Lady Rhea was so happy to have a von Hresvelg back in attendance, after all, Hilda was pretty sure the girl was getting preferential treatment whether she realized it or not.

However, she pondered as she skipped near the women, pointedly not looking at them, was it really simple suspicions? Since that day Baltie had come back briefly from his travels, with what looked like a relic weapon, and had told them it was the Baron von Ochs who had it, she had been scared, wondering, because nothing made sense. The princess had barely looked surprised before explaining the situation.

Explaining how the Baron’s daughter had disappeared. Yet had recently been found.

If she had been found, then not only did the Baron's actions make no sense, but also why did Monica show absolutely no distress at her father's fate? He said he needed it to save his daughter. But his daughter was here. Safe. And sound.

And didn't care about him.

Hilda could not put the finger on what was happening, and when she had asked, pretending confusion and curiosity rather than actual interest, she had been told more or less kindly that Empire affairs weren't her business. So yes. She figured she had the right to be nervous and scared around the two girls. Nothing about them was _right_. But she had been told, not really kindly, to leave the matter alone...

Lost in her thoughts as she was, she bumped into someone. The shock forced her to recoil and she gasped, almost ready to fake the waterworks, if only to steal a favour from the poor person who had shown as little attention to where they were going as she had.

Gold and black, a long coat. She erased her teary expression before it even reached her face. Claude winked at her.

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes. I've been looking for you all afternoon."

"Hi Claude," she drawled with a sheepish smile, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but I was working in my bedroom. Did you need something?"

No way were her fake tears going to work on him, master of fakes as he was. Maybe that was why they got along so well, they couldn't outfake the other.

Well, she thought she outfaked him quite a lot in truth. As much as Claude smiled without meaning it, the smiles he did mean were so obviously true and beautiful that once you had seen one, you knew just how wrong the others were.

"Yes I was," her leader said, "we almost had to leave without you. Felix got a letter from his father. He needs help to fight off some bandits, so we need to ride there as soon as possible."

Hilda's smile froze on her face.

There was no way for her to say no to that. She could try to pretend she had an injury, maybe? No, this wouldn't work. She wouldn't be able to fake it now, and Felix needed her help and if _Felix_ asked for help then he _really_ needed it and she couldn't just say _no_ and regret it when they came back hurt?

Okay, think Hilda, think. Maybe if you took two of the ones you were almost done with, you could finish them up on the way? This way, you could waste almost no time. Also, maybe the fabric dealers would have managed to come once they were back? She could handle it. She could do it.

"Sure," she nodded, not trying to hide her disappointment at having to go _fight_ of all things, "let me get what I need and I'm coming."

The whole class could not come, as Hilda realized soon enough. Flayn had to stay behind, now that she had accepted to be their representative and had to train (she had promised to teach them all, Hilda sure hoped she’d keep that promise). Lorenz had to stay, lord Gloucester needed his help for some matter and he assured it shouldn’t be dangerous, but still, he couldn’t go with them. Finally, Lysithea was on forced bedrest after far too many sleepless nights. Claude’s stare was proof that he and professor Byleth would scold her once they were back, but Hilda had the feeling that having to stay behind was already punishment enough for the small mage. If it terrified her to know they’d go without their best mage and two of their other friends, Hilda figured knowing they were safe was satisfying enough to forget about it. And it at least told her exactly whose accessories she could take without any risk of spoiling the surprise.

When they left, they hurried for hours, hoping to reach the place before nightfall. They did not, in fact, succeed, but they sure tried. Lord Rodrigue would have to wait for the next day. Hilda was too tired to work on her accessories when they finally took a break to eat and rest up.

Then they were up at dawn and rushing once again, all nervous bones and bated breath, fearing they'd be too late. Hilda had no idea how something could feel so slow and yet so fast. No time to relax, no time to talk or do anything that felt human rather than animal and really, that was why she hated battle so much. Because everytime they were preparing to go there, it felt like humanity, other people’s as much as her own, disappeared behind their skin and made them into weapons, weapons who didn't have any agency other than survival.

She figured some part of it was how unused she was to the blood-thumping madness, the screams and the red splashes that her brain shut out to let her feel sane, sane until she cried herself to sleep the day after. Oh, how she hated fighting.

How she hated that she was good at it despite her best effort.

How she both hated and loved remembering all of the times when without her, one of her classmates, one of her _own_ , would have been dead. How she loathed yet remembered fondly that time Claude had held up her hair as she puked in the bushes, tears streaming down her face as she desperately tried to get rid of the guts and gore that had splashed onto her after she had cleaved a man in two. " _Chin up, beautiful,_ " he had said kindly, more kindly than she had expected of him to at the time, " _you're alive, and the world moves on. There's a stream a bit down from here, if you want to wash up._ "

It should have sounded insensitive. Somehow it hadn't. Instead, she was always remembering these words, with every kill and every bloodstain and every reminder that she wasn't as strong as they thought she was, and that one day she'd be confronted to a death she could have helped with, maybe, if only she had been better, or if only they hadn't expected her to be better. Chin up, beautiful. No matter the heartache, the world would move on. But not right now, no, it currently felt frozen. The waiting, before the battle, was always the worst, because at least, during the fight, you could focus on something other than the mounting dread that was eating you alive.

Her hand found Marianne's as they reached noon on the second day. The blue-haired girl's lips looked thinner with how firmly she pressed them. Two sentences only were exchanged. " _Are you okay?_ " and " _I hope we're not too late to save them._ "

Marianne, sweet Marianne, who wished to save people. Hilda, awful Hilda, who could only think about the fact that she would have to kill others, and that she barely felt any guilt at that. She was turning into a weapon, just like her brother was, until he disappointed people and immediately they remembered he had feelings that they could hurt. 

Chin up, beautiful.

She trusted Claude more than enough to not treat her that way, but the feeling was rare. And as much as she could have wished otherwise, she also knew she wouldn't be under his orders forever. She hoped that the day she'd have to leave him, she'd at least get to leave the battlefield too. She hoped others, here, would be able to do the same, and that the battlefield wouldn't haunt their minds like it was already haunting hers, everytime she wasn't crafting, gossiping, and doing everything in her power to forget about it.

She hoped, heart heavy as she stared at him leading the march, that Felix would be able to leave it, but she already knew it was a lost cause. For every time she wondered about how she was turning into a weapon, she looked at him, and already saw one. From the one time she had seen him, back in the Verdant Rain Moon, Rodrigue Fraldarius hadn't looked like a bad man, but she couldn't help but feel ill at ease, wondering how that nice, smiling man could have the kind of expectations that turned his son into a human husk, with no true desire or purpose except for fighting. They had an understanding, her and Felix, she thought bitterly, their different motivations and likes didn't change how they couldn't help but _get_ each other, especially since that professor-mandated sparring they had. But that understanding only made it more obvious how broken he was, barely able to think of things he liked that didn't imply fighting. Cats and music, she had noticed (like Claude, though her leader liked to hide it for some reason), but he hadn't said it, didn't even seem to realize he enjoyed these things. She had just noticed, as she noticed far more than she sometimes wanted to.

He looked closed off, right now. For all his apparent dislike of his father, he hadn't hesitated before rushing to his help, whether for him or for the villagers they hoped to save. Maybe that was the thing that separated them, despite everything, that made him able to stand being a weapon. Felix might enjoy the fight and find his purpose in it, unlike her, but he was fighting to save, like Marianne.

"Chin up, beautiful..." she mumbled, either to herself or to him, she didn't know.

"Thank you Hilda," Marianne smiled sweetly. Hilda didn't have the heart to admit she wasn't saying it to her. She just smiled back, fake, but knowing it'd help. She didn't know if she'd be able to bear losing any of them, especially someone as precious as Marianne.

Chin up, beautiful. You're alive and the world moves on. But would that actually be comforting if she had lost one of them.

They arrived on the nick of time. Soon enough, axe in hand, her back to Felix's, it became pretty obvious how unprepared the enemy was. They were simple bandits, the kind with no training, who were only a danger to innocent townspeople and shieldless villagers. Which was the exact point. As she pointed a villager and a lost child in the direction of the guards, satisfied with how she had eliminated every threat, she realized that it had been the exact reason for their coming all along. Fraldarius's soldiers were efficient, strong, and could easily have defeated their enemies. At the cost of civilians' lives.

There was something touching about that, she knew with certainty, that the only reason they were needed was because Fraldarius valued its citizen's lives. There was something touching about that. She just couldn't focus on it when she had to roll on the ground to evade an attack, crushing her bag in the process, and then when her axe broke through a worn-down shield that should have been replaced years ago, hitting the man behind without any hesitation.

The man besides the one she had just killed looked at her with a mix of horror and sheer unadulterated fear. What a spectacle she must have looked like. She smirked at him, all teeth and no joy.

"You're making me work," she whined, showing clearly how annoyed this was making her.

The man fled. He wasn't the only one. She heard Felix swear. All the bandits that were smart enough to realize the danger of his bloody blade had run away. The two of them, too scary. Surely they would either flee the village, or choose easier-looking pickings.

"There are unevacuated houses, there," he said with urgency, "but someone needs to keep them away from here too."

"Claude is down there," she said, coming closer to see where the thieves were running away, "I'm going to him."

She saw Felix hesitate. Just one second. One second enough to wonder why, exactly, she was volunteering to keep fighting when Felix, here, would have jumped at the chance. It was obvious in his stare, how he wanted to go there. But it wasn’t bloodthirst in it. No.

Worry?

"Hurry," he snapped instead, before standing at the edge of the street, making sure no bandit would get away through it.

And so Hilda hurried.

Claude was much better at close combat than he liked to pretend, but his specialty was still and by far long range. Too many bandits had noticed that, of course, figuring getting the jump on an archer would make him an easy victory. Two arrows in the head and one axe in the shoulder later and they seemed to be reconsidering, but were still fighting. Hilda ran with a war cry and swung, decapitating the fourth opponent in one clean hit. She'd have time to process that later, she thought feeling queasy, was Claude okay?

As he got rid of the last man, Claude smiled at her. A bit tired, but deeply sincere.

"Hilda, have I ever told you how happy I am that you are my best friend?"

"You haven't, in fact. Would you be willing to repeat it in front of a live audience?"

"Come now, you can't be expecting me to make this kind of honest declaration like that publicly. I have a reputation to maintain."

"Oooh, the reputation of a man without a heart, what a sad thing to hang onto. I'm not sure I want to be your best friend anymore."

Claude laughed, musical and sincere if a bit stilted. This was still a battlefield, he knew perhaps better than anyone that there was no time to joke around when they could be attacked any second. But it was how he kept himself sane and she knew it.

"You know you love me," he said, picking his arrows from a corpse, "are we anywhere near done?"

The battle hadn't been going for very long, not like they expected it to. Just as Hilda had noticed, the only reason the Fraldarius men hadn't destroyed their adversaries had been civilian lives, lack of numbers. Now that they had arrived, that one issue disappeared immediately.

They trotted a bit, on their guard, in case someone else wanted them dead. When Yuri materialised in front of them, uniform bloody but hair pristine (Hilda might be a bit jealous), his smile made it obvious that the battle was already won. Without any casualty on their side.

"You don't want to rush back there, friends," he said slightly, "there's trouble in the family obviously."

Claude frowned slightly, and it took a second for Hilda to understand that Felix and his father were speaking. Well, more likely arguing.

"How long until he strides here in anger?" Claude asked lightly.

"A few minutes, give or take," Yuri answered without hesitation, "or even less. I think I already see him. I should make myself scarce."

There was indeed Felix's thin silhouette, coming near, Hilda could almost distinguish his scowl from where she was. She felt dirty, bloody, and a bit ill, Yuri was still avoiding Felix for reasons she didn’t know (he had been doing so for almost two months, now, and no one, not even Claude seemed to know why), Claude looked exhausted, and Felix was angry. Today officially sucked.

"Well that is that," Claude added, "let's leave Teach to Lord Rodrigue. She's good at diplomacy."

She was indeed. As the class reunited, healing small wounds, smiling because they had won, trembling because it still wasn't easy, Hilda let the relief wash over her, stronger than all and any disgust and horror she used to feel so heavily. She hadn't lost any of them this time. Good. Thank the Goddess if she really existed. May that blessing of hers not stop anytime soon.

It was only as they were planning their way back that her mind, finally leaving the battle behind, that she remembered she had things to finish up, an idea soft enough that it actually made her smile. If there was something that could indeed make the day better, it was crafting. And so she opened her bag.

Something dropped from it with a heavy 'clang'.

She looked at the broken piece of metal on the ground and felt her heart drop.

"Oh no," she whined, "no no no no!"

Desperately, she furraged inside her bag. The fabric she had put around her works for protection had slipped. Flayn's brooch, almost finished last morning, was now twisted and almost unrecognizable. And the bangle she had been making for Lysithea was simply destroyed. The pieces she had painstakingly woven together had broken off, after what was probably a pretty heavy hit, or had it been one of those times she had rolled on the ground? What an idiot she was! She felt tears well up in her eyes and swallowed them down painfully. No, she was not going to cry, this day sucked already more than enough, she would not cry now and look pathetic. A small sob found its way in her throat, but she shook her head, biting her lip and straightening up, hoping no one would see her sniffling. Claude was just in front of her, smiling, about to drag her into his conversation no doubt. His smile fell when he saw her. Today really sucked.

"Hilda, are you hurt?"

"No," she answered, voice brittle, "I'm fine."

"You're clearly not fine," he insisted, "did something happen?"

"Nothing. It's stupid. Don't worry."

She gave him a smile she hoped was as brilliant and not as obviously fake as some of those he liked showering her with.

"If you're trying to stop us from insisting instead of using it for favours, then it's even more worrying," Yuri's voice said, right behind her. And she usually loved how smart her leader and his beloved wild card were, but right now she wished they were just a bit less attuned to her mannerisms.

"It really is stupid," she mumbled.

A hand took the broken bangle from her fingers and she yelped, trying to get it back, weakly, without conviction. She half-heartedly glared at Felix who looked at the torn metal, brow furrowed. She knew him, at least he would agree that it was stupid. But as he raised his eyes to her face for a second, he seemed more confused than full of disdain.

"Was it... important?" he tried in that tone of voice he had when he clearly didn't want to talk about feelings but also didn't want to leave the matter alone. Damn him and the caring heart underneath his prickles. With all three looking at her like that, she groaned and gave up.

"It's really nothing to worry about... it's just that some of my gifts broke... Now they'll never be finished in time."

There was a silence. Then, Yuri's voice, incredulous, sounded, loudly, and she cringed.

"Wait, gifts?"

Of course his voice had to attract everyone's attention. And now everyone was looking at her and now it couldn't stay a secret and now everyone would expect something and...

"Hilda," Claude's voice said, closer than before, "breathe. What's happening?"

"It's just so dumb!" she exploded. "But I wanted to give everyone something for the Ball, and I knew it was going to be difficult, so I took some during the mission, thinking I could work on the way, and now they're broken and I can't fix it and I'll never be done in time."

The rest of the class was coming closer, and everyone looked so soft, almost pitying, and she usually would have liked that but not that time, not when she really wanted to succeed at something and knew already she couldn't. Not anymore. She had two weeks to redo pieces that took her days, and she still couldn't work on Marianne's, and she hadn't started Felix's and Raphael's yet, and Claude's would take her a lot of time... Oh wow, Hilda, great way to stop yourself from sobbing.

"Sure, I already have a few down," she muttered dejectedly, "but it's not the same if I can't give one to everyone at the same time! We're a team, aren't we? The whole team gets something!"

"Oh, Hilda," Marianne said softly, "you don't have to give us anything great. It's already so sweet of you."

"Yes I do!" Hilda exclaimed, almost offended in a way. "Of course you're going to get something amazing! You guys are my friends, you deserve the best, so I _will_ give you the best!"

Another silence answered her declaration, everyone flabbergasted. Behind her she heard a soft gasp, most likely Ignatz muffling an emotional reaction. Then there was a cooing nose, Raphael, who then started laughing and talking about how cute she was and okay, maybe that did make her feel better. In front of her, Marianne’s eyes were wide open and Yuri was looking at her with the kind of adoration he usually reserved for Lysithea when she was being particularly stubborn (which he seemed to find adorable). Felix was staring pointedly at her shoulder, looking as confused as before, but behind him Claude had a cute smile on his face. To be fair, her friend was a cute smile specialist, but this one was small and flustered, colour rushing to his cheeks in fondness and did she seriously manage to make Claude Von Riegan blush? It wasn't as if she had done anything exceptional, surely it wasn't the first time _any_ of these people had gotten gifts!

She wondered how Lorenz and Lysithea would have reacted if they were there. She was almost sure that Flayn would be jumping up and down in excitement, asking her question about her gift.

"Well," Claude ended up saying with his small, fond smile, "too bad for the Ball. But I don't think any of us will be angry at you if you take the time you need to finish it all."

"Sure," Yuri added happily, "and don't hesitate to ask for help! We get a lot of second-hand stuff for Abyss, maybe you'll find something you can use there."

Part of Hilda wanted to balk at the idea of using second-hand for her gifts that needed to be perfect. Part of her was tempted. The last, much bigger part, was burning in embarrassment.

"Oh Goodess no! These are gifts for you! All of you! I can't have you help the creation of your own gifts!"

"Please," Ignatz squeaked with that soft voice of his, "you have started such a wondrous task, do let us help you in small ways if possible."

"Nooooooo!"

Marianne huffed a laugh and just for that small, wonderful sound, everything was good and today was the best day ever. A happy Marianne made a good day, it was something she was pretty sure the whole class agreed on.

"You are so cute," Claude smiled, "don't you agree Marianne?"

"Yes I do," the blue haired girl said, "oh Hilda. You are such a sweetheart."

Well now it was Hilda's turn to be stunned silent. Everyone was talking about what they could do to help her, now, the mood so much better than it had been a few minutes before. She would have taken pride in it, had it been intentional. Instead she was feeling maybe just a bit overwhelmed. She hated fighting. Crafting, that was what she loved. Her brother had sent her here, worried that she'd waste her life doing nothing, too scared of disappointing people and for the very first time, she had to admit, she didn't resent him for it anymore.

She hated fighting, she hated the blood, the death, the fear and the sweat. She wanted to craft and create and make people happy. But a warrior family such as hers? No way they would have accepted it, so she hadn't dared say a thing. She had waited, doing nothing. And then, in that lonely little room in Garreg Mach, next to a woman who scared her, she had started crafting. Figuring that at least she could make use of the distance with her disapproving parents.

All of them, right now, her friends... Their easy acceptance was like a gentle breeze.

She would never have met them if not for her annoying older brother forcing her to go. What a shame that she'd have to thank him for it.

Well, at least that told her what she needed to write in her next letter.

"Well I'll do my best," she ended up saying haughtily in front of their praise, "but I can't promise anything."

"Don't even promise your best," Claude ruffled her hair, making her squeak and beat his hand back, "I don't think anyone can handle your best. It's too good."

"You're damn right it is!" she proclaimed proudly. "Now hands off, you!"

It was already quite late, so they'd make camp near the border of Fraldarius territory for the night. Rodrigue insisted on accompanying them there, saying it was the least he could do as thanks for their help. Apparently, he and professor Byleth had agreed that it counted as an intervention from the Church, since it avoided the issue of having lords like Claude or even Hilda acting out in Kingdom territories. With how the man had quickly fallen in step besides his son, his real reasons were deeply obvious. That corner of their merry group had been mostly silent for most of the journey, though. Rodrigue talked a bit, usually tentatively, warm but awkward, subjects innocuous, harmless, the kind of small talk that said you were walking on eggshells. Felix answered most of the times snappingly, sometimes his curt answers turned to monosyllabic. Despite his biting tone, he had done nothing to escape his father's proximity and just for that, Hilda was happy watching them, wishing she had something to eat, wondering if they'd succeed in mending the gap between them just a little bit.

She didn't know what had caused that rift between the two Fraldariuses, but if she had to bet, she would have guessed something about Glenn Calixte Fraldarius. Perfect big brother and human legend, dead and gone leaving only broken hearts in his wake. She couldn't imagine her parents reacting well to Holst's death, she couldn't imagine herself not lashing out at them for pushing him too hard, she couldn't even think about it without wanting to break down crying and oh no, she missed him, the big oaf.

"So," Rodrigue coughed right then, "how is Manuela?"

Felix turned sharply towards his father, and the absolute horror Hilda saw on his face was something she definitely needed to ask him about, but despite how much she wanted to cackle, it was time to save him from what seemed about to turn into the most embarrassing conversation of his life. Fortunately, Claude was closer and seemed to have the same idea.

"Hey," he said, introducing himself to his friend’s side with more or less subtlety, "do you think we'll finally get our formal uniforms once we get back?"

Felix scowled, but the way he scooted closer to Claude showed that he knew this was an rescuing attempt and definitely wanted it to work.

"I don't care," he grumbled, "it's not like I'm going to participate in that nonsense."

"Well _that's_ nonsense if I've never heard it! Flayn said she’d teach us all to dance, and you would put her lessons to waste? You know you'd better not bail on her, she'll make you chop firewood again."

As Felix was deadpaning something about how terrifying it sounded, Hilda swiftly put herself between him and Rodrigue.

"Hellooo sir," she crooned at the older man, "so, I was wondering, do you teach people how to dance in Faerghus?"

"Excuse me?" the man answered in surprise.

"I mean, not to be rude or anything, but Claude and I were talking to prince Dimitri the other day and you know, he seemed absolutely terrified at the prospect of dancing. Also Ingrid seemed pretty uncomfortable, and so did Ashe, so I can't help but wonder."

The man chuckled, apparently accepting her company, at least out of politeness.

"We do teach our children ballroom dancing," he said, "but it's not the most extensive of our lessons I must admit. And out of all those I had the pleasure of overseeing, I have to say, only Felix and Sylvain showed any aptitude for it."

"Oooh", Hilda cooed, shoving the information inside her memory box for later, "I can't wait to dance with Felix, then."

She glanced at the boy, almost sad to realize he didn't hear her. She'd have to tease him later.

"I will have to dance with Sylvain too," she added pensively, "making him work is always fun."

As full of bullshit as her, they liked smiling and pretending they didn't know how much the other was using them. But no one was deceiving anyone. Their discussions were like weapons raised between them. It wasn't that they disliked each other, but more that they instinctively distrusted each other. Battling wits with him was always so much fun and she knew he enjoyed it too.

"Well anyway, we've had a generic showing of what our formal uniforms will look like, so Yuri and I, we had started planning how we wanted everyone to wear them so we’d look all stylish. And in secret, I had these great accessories ideas that I wanted to incorporate in the outfits, but some broke, so I won't have time and it's so frustrating because I wanted everything to be perfect! Speaking of perfect, Manuela is supposed to sing during the Ball, but I sure hope Dorothea won't be too mad if she loses, because I really want her to sing too! I mean, Manuela is wonderful (she saw Rodrigue's lips curl up at this and made a note of it for later again), but she can’t sing all night, she'll need a break after a while. Oh! That reminds me! Do you like the opera, Duke Fraldarius? I mean, I know Felix does even if he doesn't like us reminding him of it, so I’m wondering. By the way, Yuri is an amazing singer too! It's too bad he hates singing in front of people, I could listen to him the whole night."

Rodrigue was smiling at her, nodding politely, not an ounce of strain on his face despite her rambling. What a perfect gentleman, she chuckled mentally, and sincere too. A rare breed in the Alliance. His eyes, however, kept moving slightly to his son, currently talking to Claude. There was curiosity in that gaze, and maybe a bit of wariness that she didn't like. She made a show of following his stare and laughed out loud.

"Oh, you must be surprised! No one would expect these two to get along so well, right?"

"Indeed," Rodrigue answered with an even tone.

"It's because everyone stops at surface level. Don't be fooled, of course they get along, they're both workaholics! At first, most people thought that Claude would teach Felix how to take a nap, but that was stupid. Of course! Because the only reason Claude even takes naps during the day is because he's too busy working to sleep at night! I swear I'm going to drag them to the sauna and force them both to relax for once in their life!"

That or maybe, she could ask Yuri to get one of them to bed and show him a good time. Not that she'd admit that out loud to lord Rodrigue, oh no. His son's possible sex life (if he was even interested in that stuff) wasn't his business. Plus, with the current strange rift between Felix and Yuri, that would be complicated...

Lord Rodrigue looked at her, amused and fond. Clearly he hadn't minded her outburst.

"Please do," he said softly, "I know he works himself too hard. Be careful, though. Us men of the North aren't good with heat."

"Noted. I'll get him out if he faints."

This time, lor Rodrigue actually laughed out loud.

"You are Holst Goneril's sister, aren't you?" he said.

"Aye, that I am!"

"He speaks a lot of you, it is nice to finally meet you."

"How kind of you," she giggled, "I hope he only said nice things."

"For sure. I heard there were a few Almyran raids recently. I hope he is alright."

"He is just fine! According to him, the current raids are barely even attacks, more like them poking his men to make sure they're still there. He actually sent me a book on Almyran jewelry just the other day and wouldn't you know it..."

She froze. Rodrigue raised an eyebrow, curious. Gathering her bearings she smiled again, trying desperately not to look at Claude. She couldn't hear him and Felix anymore, so they probably had moved far enough. Rescue complete, perfect.

"Oh, sorry. I just got an idea for my next accessory. So sorry, I need to write it down so I don't forget!"

She trotted away from the man, her heart beating fast while a cold, awful feeling ran through her. When she found Marianne, her friend looked at her with a bit of surprise, Hilda must have looked quite manic for her to look that worried, but she didn't ask. And after a night spent awake and another day of travel, they finally arrived home.

Hilda rushed to her room immediately, pretending that she needed a nap. And then, with febrile fingers, she found the book Holst had sent her and opened it.

It didn't take long for her to find the page. She had barely looked at it the first time, feeling much more inspired by later models, but when she had seen the earring, she had briefly thought she had seen something similar, somewhere.

After the whole way back to Garreg Mach spent staring at Claude's ear, she knew exactly where, now.

The writing underneath was explaining what kind of ornament it was. An earring celebrating an accomplishment, the rite of passage to adulthood in some houses, the taming of a wyvern.

All this time, Claude had worn Almyran jewelry right in front of them and no one had noticed, she thought hysterically. He had been so careful to hide where he came from and all because...

She closed the book, calming her breathing as she could, and just stared at the wall.

All because how would they have reacted if he hadn't?

Because she knew him, now, after all these months. She knew him as a kind-hearted prankster who was always thinking up strategies, who loved animals and who always had everyone's health as his priority. She knew him as a nice young man who didn't act like a typical noble, that was for sure, but the more he spoke, the more convinced she became that it was a good thing. She knew him as her best friend and someone with a lot of empathy, but who could still step back and look at the whole picture. She knew him as someone able to tame a stray cat like Felix and a wild bird like Yuri, with neither of them finding any issue with it, becoming his two other closest friends now. She knew him as a shrewd and intelligent teenager who understood politics and power games better than many boys his age should, who was always careful about what he said, and who spent his time learning about anything and everything.

He was the very opposite of the beasts Almyrans were described as.

Hilda felt sick.

She searched in her memory, again and again, for a specific moment where she might have told him something unacceptable about his people, but couldn't find any. And yet she knew she had. Because when you were born near the Locket, insulting Almyrans was as natural as breathing. They almost felt like unreal people, made-up people, boogeymen made to scare children. By Ailell, how many times had she offended Cyril by accident, despite the boy not giving a damn about his former country? She hadn't been as careful with Claude that was for sure.

He had called her his best friend and she felt like the worst. She had wondered if he'd ever tell her where he was from, and now that she knew she also knew there was no way he would. Not her. Not with how she had been.

And there she had been, she thought with a mournful laugh, ready to create another earring for him, thinking it could replace that nice-looking but plain one she thought was underwhelming. A good intention, maybe, but how more insulting could she have been?

She let her head fall against her bed as she sighed and thought. Of course Claude didn't want anyone to know, of course, of course. That wasn't even a wonder anymore, oh no, it actually never really was. Because far too few people already listened to him, shaming him for putting people’s life as his priority because _that wasn’t how they did things in Fodlan, you foreigner_ (and boy was Hilda happy that Felix had beaten up the guy who had dared acting as if him caring for them and not being born here were bad things, she’d have done it herself. How dare he when these ‘schemes’ he was mocking had kept them alive so many times?), because Cyril got picked on despite all his hard work, because she was the sister of the man who kept pushing back the Almyrans from the Locket. Holst had always shown more respect to Almyrans than most of the people in the Goneril estate, she had noticed that a long time ago already. Now that she knew Cyril, now that she knew Claude, she wondered if it was because by fighting them, he had figured out the simple truth that she had only just realized now to her great shame: that they were people.

Of course he wouldn't tell her.

He had called her his best friend.

She wanted to cry.

The night was hard on her once again. She wondered about the weight of that secret, about how he had to hold it close to his chest, about how he had to stay quiet, like it was something to be ashamed of. She wondered if someone, anyone, had learnt about it.

She wondered if he had told Felix or Yuri.

**25th day of the Ethereal Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

Flayn won the cup, to everyone's bedazzled awe. How the little green haired girl with her dance defeated Dorothea's incredible routine, no one was really sure. But Alois had been misty-eyed and Manuela was almost bawling, so there must have been something deeply moving for whoever was faith-inclined in the dance. Hilda had heard that it was a variation of an old traditional priestess dance, but it hadn't touched her like it should have, probably.

Well it didn't matter, they had won, Flayn was a certified dancer who had promised she'd teach them all (and she was already making good on her promise) and as such, everyone who had just a modicum of talent with their hands had been requested to help with the creation of dancer outfits for the whole class. Professor Byleth had looked at Hilda with a bit of hesitation and Hilda had just...

Given up on her unreasonable objective.

"I'll help," she had promised, "I'm good with colors. We're going to make these outfits _smashing_!"

And her accessories had been pushed aside for the moment.

When the day of the Ball came, there had been a few looks, but nothing too expectant. They already knew she could never have made it in time. So no one said anything about it, but they stayed at her side, thanking her for the most innocuous things. They were precious, really, to try to comfort her. She had accepted her failure days ago, to be honest, they didn't need to. But it was still sweet so she let them.

In other news, Rodrigue had been right. And even though Hilda doubted he could have won the contest, Felix was the closest to get his own certification as a dancer. Well, closest after Hilda, who already had it (and maybe she was proud of it, she'd have to admit). So of course, rather than tease the blue-haired boy, Leonie was already talking about how he'd better dance with her tonight, because she wanted to trip him. And he would answer in kind, both of them talking as if that was some kind of training, these two idiots. Well, they were having fun their own way, who was Hilda to stop them?

As they were getting ready, the whole class talked and laughed. And then, they promised.

In five years, being reunited here. It was too good to be true. Hilda only half believed it to be possible. But at the same time, professor Byleth wielded the Sword of the Creator, her best friend was an Almyran, and Felix Fraldarius was currently smiling, anger absent from his eyes. So who was Hilda not to take that step of faith that impossible could be made possible?

And so she promised, with them all, and then crossed her arms.

"Ugh, you know what? I couldn't make these perfect accessories I wanted for everyone today, here. And with the dancer outfit confections, I have no idea when I'll be able to start again."

She saw them move a bit, forward, hands raised in a comforting manner, and didn't let them say anything.

"So you guys are going to have to learn patience and wait! In five years. I'll have them ready and more beautiful than anything I could have given you today. So you'd better be ready to be dazzled!"

All of them smiled, and laughed, and teased her maybe a bit. "You better deliver," Leonie said jokingly. Professor Byleth smiled serenely, as if she had no doubts Hilda could do it. Of course. Five years, there was no way she wouldn't have time. The pressure was on, but so low, it was almost nothing. And so Hilda smiled, sure of herself. She had time. She'd do something perfect for them. And they'd all follow that promise, because that was the way her friends were, they'd make impossible possible.

"The outfits won't take forever," Claude laughed when they started walking towards the ballroom, "I'm sure if you put your mind to it they could be done by graduation."

"Oh, shush," she hissed at him, "yours is the hardest of them all."

"Really? What is it?"

"A secret."

Five years should be enough. She'd study Almyran culture. She'd talk to the men on the other side of the Locket. She'd figure out how to make one, perfect, not something inadvertently insulting, she would show him just how important he was to her, show him that she knew and didn't mind and would keep his secret. This was important, just like Marianne's shawl was. This wasn't just a gift to show people that they meant a lot to her anymore. This would be a proof of trust and acceptance, and she would _not_ mess it up.

And during the Ball, she danced. And she watched the others dance. And she watched Claude dance, with everyone. With the professor, with Leonie, and Ignatz, and Marianne, and Raphael, and Lysithea, and Yuri, and Hilda herself of course, and even Felix. She couldn't help but laugh when he even managed to drag a blushing Dimitri on the dancefloor. And she listened and smiled, gauging who else could be trusted with that huge secret of his, not that she'd tell them herself of course, that wasn't her secret to tell. But nudge him, push him to share, to lighten up that burden of his that would eat him alive if he kept like this.

At the end of this tiring but wonderful night, she had been satisfied to realize that, as she had suspected, Yuri and Felix knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Hilda to death, she's my personal best girl in the game and one of my favourite characters, definitely in my top 5. I also think it's sad that we never see her reaction to learning that Claude is half-Almyran, because while it's quite obvious that her racism towards them is learnt rather than ingrained and that it's more of a reflex than something she really thinks, I still would have liked her realizing just how insensitive she acted towards her best friend at times, unknowingly. But that's a legacy of Claude being a secretive little shit so I get it x) I just think it's sad, since we have Ingrid and Dedue's supports precisely being about her learning to let go of her prejudices.  
> I don't know if it's obvious or not, but I try to have characters having different reflexes when it comes to swearing depending on where they come from. The people from the _Holy Kingdom_ of Faerghus mention the Goddess a lot, whether they're firm believers or not, just because that's what they're used to. Judai, however, thinks about Gods plural. And here, Hilda does think about the Goddess and the Saints, but a lot less than they do, because she lives near the Locket and has a minus in Faith, so I kind of expect her to really not be spiritually inclined (I actually HC the Gonerils as being much closer to Almyrans when it comes to many things, including faith) and to have other ways of expression. I don't know if I succeeded in showing that, but it's fun to try in any case!  
> Finally, Claude sharing his true identity with Yuri and Felix is _very_ out of character for him and I know it. The truth is that I had a whole chapter planned that explained how it happened, but I couldn't fit it anywhere and I'm still not sure I actually like it since it's, long story short, a plot ex machina. Basically all three of them ended up forced to share their biggest secret with each other and it changed a lot of things, but it also had them become much closer than they would have otherwise. I will try to post the chapter in the side-stories, one day, if I manage to write a version I'm kinda okay with. It just feels sad to have such an important moment missing from the story but... yeah... I just don't know how to go about it... :/


	15. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude's army gets back to Garreg Mach, and Hilda gets back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more of Hilda to keep the good mood going! ... Or so you'd think. There's a bit of everything in that chapter to be honest, happiness, bubbliness, jokes, harsh truths, and comfort. I'm not sure if it's more sad or more soft, maybe a bit of both. In any case, I hope you enjoy that slight view of our friends at Garreg Mach, because we're going right back to the miserable land up north afterwards! Yay!  
> In any case, post TS Hilda has matured about some points for sure, but she's still Hilda!

**Chapter 14**

_Someone's gotta hate_

_It's never gonna change_

_Gets harder every day_

_It's a hell of a place_

_To keep your heart from freezing_

_To keep yourself believing_

**5th day of the Lone Moon, Imperial Year 1185**

**Hilda**

“Finallyyyy,” Hilda groaned as they passed Garreg Mach’s imposing doors, “the way back home took _forever_.”

“It actually went faster than the way there,” Marianne said softly.

“Oh, shush Mari dear, you know what I mean.”

Marianne giggled, her hair was coming loose. Hilda looked at her with fondness, and then watched the soldiers coming in, commanders telling them to get some rest, villagers welcoming them back, animals being led to their stalls. No one seemed to need her, good. She nodded to herself and clapped her hands.

"You know what we need after such a _grueling journey_? Me time! A bit of me time! Mari, you come with me! Same with you Hapi, if it's alright."

The red-haired girl, who had been riding with her on her wyvern, looked up with those tired eyes of hers, her hair as messy as ever. She had started trying to tie them up, recently, and they looked cleaner, shinier. But all of this was transpiring amateur work. Hilda smiled.

"I want to braid your hair, both of you," she said.

"What for?" Hapi asked with her familiar bluntness.

"It's a girl bonding exercise," she answered, almost dragging her with her, "come on girls. Claude! Mister leader man!"

Her best friend raised his head, looking away from the professor who he was speaking with. She winked.

"If you need me, I'll be in our classroom with these lovely ladies."

"Sure," he answered with a small smile of his own, "take time to relax, I'll have work for you later."

Of course he would. She groaned, but relented, knowing it was coming anyway. Hapi snickered, finding her misery amusing, something she often did when people were in small amounts of pain. Marianne trotted alongside them, her sweet face serene. Wonder among wonders, but the last five years had actually made a miracle out of Marianne's sleep schedule. She looked refreshed and radiant and happier than ever. It wasn't the war making her happy, oh no, far from it. It was just that she had found her reason to live and basked in it. As Hilda looked at the shawl snugged on her shoulders, she wanted to take part of the credit, but really, it was everyone. Especially the professor.

And so Hilda sat Marianne and Hapi down in their old classroom, now unused except for these self-indulgent moments. Hapi looked like she was heavily judging her, but the older woman didn't say a word, simply happy to sit back as Hilda pushed her fingers through her thick mane. Humming happily, Hilda counted to three before starting her innocuous fishing. She had no talent when it came to fish for food, but there were other things she was great at.

"So Mari, we didn't get to tell you before," Hilda started, "but we met the most interesting person back in Aillel, Claude and I."

"Really?" Marianne said, looking at her owlishly. "What kind of person?"

"So, he looked like a kid," Hilda brushed some of the knots away and frowned, that'd need a comb, "but apparently he woke up in a tomb. Like the one we saw during the Revelation ceremony, with a throne and all."

Hapi scoffed.

"You didn't meet him," she said, rolling her eyes, "I told you about him when I left the Kingdom. There were rumors running about him."

"Oh but we did," Hilda said kindly, "he came to us in Ailell."

"Really?" Hapi asked, dubitative. "You mean that the 'Holiest man in Fearghus’ went up to Aillel to have a chat with you and then simply left?"

"Actually, yes, that's exactly what happened."

"I don't believe it, pink."

"I do," Marianne murmured, "I mean, we went near the Kingdom's border. They must have been worried, it would make sense for them to send someone, make sure of our intentions."

Hilda hummed and untangled another knot. Good, she could finally start. She separated the hair in three.

"There's that too. But it wasn't just that. It was Felix."

Marianne gasped, hand against her mouth and Hilda could see just how eager she was. They all were desperate to get news from their only missing friend. Despite his missive, warning them of his absence, the frustration in the words stronger than any apology, they had hoped to see him. When they hadn't, they had moved on but as Hilda thought, remembering how she had carried his ribbon everywhere with her until there was the opportunity to get it to him, they had all hoped to finally see him appear, one day or another.

"Felix talked to him, asked him to see Claude," Hilda summarized, "but he didn't have much time to talk. I know you already told us what you knew about him, Hapi dear, but do you remember anything else you heard?"

"Nothing I didn't already say," the woman shrugged and Hilda clicked her tongue as it almost made her lose her grip on the hair, "kid woke up in a tomb and found Didi, or the other way around. No one knows where he's from outside of that. He apparently knows nothing about the world. If word is to be believed, he spent a literal thousand years sleeping and I'm kind of jealous."

She said these words with derision, clearly not trusting them one bit. Hilda hummed again with a smile and finished up her work, already feeling more like herself.

"Thank you so much Hapi," she said, "do you want to see yourself in a mirror?"

"No need, pink," the girl answered, "I don't really care how I look you know."

"What a shame, you're such a beautiful girl. But if that's how you're comfortable, thank you for indulging me. Mari, my sweetheart, I'm going to rework your hairdo."

"Thank you," Marianne flushed a bit, "it is very kind of you."

"Nonsense, you know I like working your hair."

Because her hair was silky and soft, and once upon a time, it was the one way to have Marianne close her eyes and look content. There were other ways for the young woman to smile now, but it still felt like a comfort, knowing she could help her friend in such a fashion.

"Oh my, what are you doing here?"

Hilda had to stop herself from smiling like a madwoman when she heard that voice, at the entrance of the classroom. Hapi turned her head, looking as if she were about to fall asleep on her feet.

"Hey, Sweetness," she greeted the newcomer, "you're still small."

Hilda heard more than she saw how Flayn flustered at these words. The young priestess hadn't changed at all in the five years they had spent away from one another. And while no one had commented on it, the stares she attracted by all those who remembered her from before made it obvious everyone had realized something strange was at play, there. And it was absolutely perfect timing, because the kid, the strange kid from Ailell, had given her a theory and it was time to test it out.

"Hello Flayn," Hilda exclaimed, "I'm braiding Mari's hair. Do you want to be next?"

"Oh dear," the priestess giggled, flustered, "aren't we a little old for this?"

"Nonsense! No one is too old for a braiding session. Watch me, in a few months I'll have convinced all of our long-haired people to join us."

"In that case, I shall join with great pleasure!"

Perfect. The green-haired girl sat near them, watching Hilda's fingers with great interest. Since she had started wearing it, Hilda had redone Marianne’s hairdo a thousand times, it was natural and she didn't have to think as she pinned the braids together in that stylish and sophisticated way Marianne seemed to favour. She then turned to Flayn, looking as innocent as possible. She needed to have her hands in the girl's hair so she couldn't escape her trap.

She started braiding, congratulating her on how soft her hair was. And then, once Flayn was sufficiently relaxed in her hands, she turned back to Marianne and Hapi.

"But to go back to our previous discussion, if the stories are true, that's quite interesting. Can you imagine? Falling asleep and waking a millenia later? The whole world would have changed."

Flayn tensed. Hilda held off her smile.

"That's a terrifying story," she said softly, "where would you hear that?"

"A kid we met in the Kingdom," she said lightly, "but yeah, I agree. Terrifying. Imagine, all those you loved would be gone! That'd be awful!"

Flayn laughed, the sound awkward. Only politeness seemed to hold her in place.

"I wonder if it would really be possible, though. What do you think, Flayn?"

She made sure her tone was as even as the rest of the sentence, as if she wasn't singling out her answer, just asking out of curiosity. She could feel Flayn shift, unease obvious in her bones.

"Maybe a divine being could?" she said softly, more like a question.

"Ooooh, like the children of the Goddess you mean? I mean, I remember Constance talking about the Goddess being known as the 'Progenitor God', and also I know some of the scriptures mention her children. So maybe that could happen to them? What do you think, Hapi?"

"Do I look like I care about anything related to the Church?" the woman grumbled.

"I wonder how the children of the Goddess were, or are..." Marianne said with her soft voice. "We don't know much about them. What do you think happened to them?"

Maybe they did fall asleep, only to wake up thousands of years later, like the kid.

Like Flayn, probably.

Deciding to cut the girl some slack, Hilda giggled and decided to go way off track.

"Maybe they were the ten Elites, you know? Like, with time the scriptures have changed, made them sound like different people, but that could be what we mean when we say that Crests are a gift from the Goddess. What if they were gifts from the Goddess _because_ they came from her children?"

Flayn's body was even more tense, but it was different. She couldn’t have explained how, exactly, but from her body language, it was obvious she was wrong, but that Flayn liked her suggestions even less than the last ones. It was time to cut that conversation short.

"I'm not sure," Marianne mutterred, her eyes somber, yes, definitely time to stop that.

"Oh well, it was just a theory anyway, I'm not the most well versed in faith you know? But it's interesting to think about for sure!"

Marianne smiled again, thank Sothis.

"Whatever that boy is, I hope Claude gets to talk to him soon."

"Claude!"

Flayn had jumped up. Surprised, Hilda let go of her hair, that she had luckily just finished tying up. The green-haired girl looked terribly awkward, likely shocked by her own outburst.

"Oh I'm so sorry," she said, "I just remembered. He was the one who sent me. He wanted me to tell you, Hilda, he is in the meeting room. He said he needed you whenever you were done with what you were doing?"

"Oh, sure!" Hilda smiled. "Well I better hurry then. Thank you again for indulging me, you three! And let me know if you want me to braid your hair again!"

Hapi grumbled something, but both Marianne and Flayn waved, smiling, and Hilda left with her heart light.

Claude was indeed in the meeting room, speaking with Yuri, and no one else. No need for secrecy then, she just walked to them and interrupted without shame.

"So, children of the Goddess might be able to sleep for a very long time, but it doesn’t seem to have much to do with crests. Adorable Flayn is a terrible actress, and you're welcome."

The men froze in the middle of their conversation. Then, Yuri started laughing slowly, the kind of barely controlled sound he tended to express when he was surprised. Claude smiled at her, eyes tired, but fond.

"Oh Hilda, I am so glad that you are my best friend. Thank you."

Partners in crime, professional eavesdroppers, information seekers, innocent manipulators. Both of them. Hilda should maybe have been worried about that, but she had always been someone who liked knowing things, gossip, everything like that. And Yuri had made information into his life business. Really, with Claude's incessant need to _learn_ and _know_ it was no surprise how quickly he had found them invaluable. They knew each other enough for Hilda to know that Flayn being sent to her definitely was so Hilda could drag information out of her body language. The young priestess knew to be careful around Claude, they had a bet about her real identity, her friend had told her. She didn't know Hilda was helping him, though.

"Now that my job here is done," she bowed, "do you need some privacy? To relieve tension maybe?"

Yuri's laughter turned higher, actual, real hilarity in his voice as Claude's smile changed into a pout.

"Oh, come on. It was one time."

"One time maybe, but I happened to walk on you. So live with your choices."

"Actually," Yuri said in between two laughs, "we do really need you, not just the results of your investigation. Have you heard from Holst?"

And just like that, the amused mood disappeared, replaced by the somberness of war. Hilda shook her head, sadly. No, no word had come from her brother. The men exchanged a worried glance.

"We haven't had word from Balthus either," Yuri explained, "it should have come while we were in Ailell."

Hilda didn't have all the details of Claude's scheme. She knew the reason for it was that it included her family a lot, and as such she had herself requested not to be involved, to avoid conflicts of interest. But she also knew it was quite the ambitious plan.

When the war had started, Yuri had quickly become their master of secrets. He had kept a look over Abyss for a while, until Constance and Hapi had come to replace him. Then he had joined Derdriu to coordinate his men and spies networks. While getting information from the Empire and then the Western part of the Kingdom had quickly become complicated, the Wolves had all decided to pinch in. Constance left for the Empire, a worrying prospect, but she managed to send letters, so all was good for now. Hapi often made journeys to the Kingdom, allowing her to check on things and on her family. And when he wasn't watching over Abyss at Yuri's orders, Balthus spent his time in the Goneril Estate, teaching Hilda Faith magic and laughing with Holst.

He was as safe as he could be, there, and yet ever since the beginning of that plan of them, Claude and Yuri had looked more worried for him than for any of the others. She wondered what, exactly, they were intending him to do...

"I'll send Holst a letter," she promised, "but don't worry. Whatever you're planning, the two of you put your heads together. I don't think anything can resist both of your minds at the same time."

"That's kind of you," Yuri winked, "I suppose we can't do anything but wait."

"That's right," Claude sighed, fiddling with his earring, "as nerve-wracking as it can be, that's what we have to do."

Hilda stared at the earring for a few seconds, remembering with a smile the flabbergasted look on his face when she had given it to him. Not a replacement, no, the earring was meant to be placed alongside another.

She had hesitated between all the ideas she had been given from people she used to see as enemies. There had been a mark of intelligence, or the proof of numerous battles won, the favour of the god of war she had decided was a bad idea, as if a non-Almyran person like her could decide what their gods were thinking after all. In the end, she had chosen a simple proof of friendship. A rival clan turned ally. Claude's face had gone through so many emotions at the gift, she would treasure it forever. He had been absolutely speechless. Meanwhile, she had just smiled innocently before giving her next gift - a scarf for Raphael’s sister, she knew he’d enjoy it more than something for himself - leaving him time to process the realization without any of their friends realizing just how meaningful that one gift in particular had been. The mark of friendship had joined his beastmaster accomplishment within a fortnight.

"Constance's lack of answer is more concerning I think," she added, "her last letter was two moons ago."

"I don't think anything happened to her," Yuri said cautiously, "she said she created a spell that would warn us if she were caught or otherwise compromised and I trust our shady lady to know what she’s doing. You're right, though. She is indeed late."

"I hope she finds information about Dorothea," Hilda whined a bit, "Ferdinand is going _insane_ with worry, it's pretty sad to watch."

As if Dorothea's fate was the only thing worrying the young man.

"I hope so too," Yuri smiled tightly.

His eyes were drawn towards the window. Claude followed his gaze and Hilda imitated them soon enough. Outside, Leonie was teaching the professor how to ride a horse. It was quite the nice picture, the reversal of their teenage years. The student becoming the professor, the little sister turning into the elder one after the passing of their mentor or father.

Yet, Hilda knew perfectly well that this wasn't what was going through her far-too-smart friends' head. But neither of them knew how to voice it first. Fine, then, let her be the voice of the thoughts they wouldn't dare pronounce.

"The professor slept for five years," she said softly, "and she didn't change a bit."

"She didn't," Claude agreed, "it makes you wonder just how long, exactly, people like her, with a link to the Gods, can stay asleep, but alive."

If that boy in the Kingdom was to be believed, then apparently, more than a thousand years. Whatever he was, it must have been similar to the professor or Lady Rhea.

"What does the boy's presence mean for us?" Yuri mused. "That's the real question, isn't it?"

"I like to think that he means answers," Claude said.

"A shame I couldn't meet him."

With how shaken he was, of course he couldn't have. Hilda grabbed his sleeve, a small reminder that he was alright. Killing lord Gwendal, the closest thing he ever had to a father figure, took its toll on him. She was pretty sure that, were she to erase that gorgeous make-up he loved so much, she'd see more bags under his eyes than Marianne ever had.

Time to get rid of a dangerous topic with another dangerous one.

"So, Claude," she squealed suddenly, "can you believe that Dimitri is actually alive? How do you feel about that?"

Claude jumped at that, his cool and composed attitude broken for just a second. Hilda lived to surprise him, she took a special pride in it.

"Can I _not_ answer the question?"

"Come on," she groaned, "I remember how depressed you got after his execution was announced."

She remembered how she had felt too, but mostly through his proxy. As calm as he had looked, the glaze in his eyes had been completely shattered, shiny, as if he had been holding back tears. He admired the prince a lot, she knew, hearing about his death had been like learning that a star had fallen from the sky, never to be seen again.

"More like you couldn't believe it," Yuri added, eyes to his friend, "but I'm pretty sure I remember you sneaking into the wine cellar to drink when all the reports that came back were unanimous."

And then Yuri had asked his own men. And the light had come back into Claude's eyes.

Their leader pouted, a petulant expression hiding how he really felt.

"You were the one who told me the body they had suspended to Fhirdiad's gates wasn't his," he retorted, "so any hope I had left was your doing."

"So you admit that you wanted him alive?"

"Of course I did! He's a good man."

He was. That was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? When war started and took the good ones first, those who deserved to live and be happy, especially when life had already taken so much from them. What Hilda remembered from herself, when she learnt about his death, was thinking about how cruel it was, that the shining prince, strangely sincere and innocent despite the fires in his past, had perished, betrayed by a court lady he trusted. About how unfair it was for the Kingdom, who had never known peace in the last decades, to have lost their king, their regent and their prince all because of the ambitions of one (or two) woman. It was unfair, terribly unfair.

"He is," Yuri sighed, "and unless I read your intentions wrong, you'd like him to rule all of Fodlan once this mess is all over."

Well and here Hilda thought she'd be landing all the heavy blows, today. Maybe she should have brought something to eat, if it was honesty time with her two favourite schemers. Finally, after a few seconds of silence, Claude sighed, allowing just a bit of vulnerability on his face, a small smile that almost looked wounded.

"Yes I am glad that Dimitri is alive, and yes I care about him. Happy, now?"

"I don't know," Hilda chirped, "this is news for no one I think. I, personally, am more interested in the rest."

There was a shadow on his face and she was determined to know why it was there, when he should have been so glad. And so Claude's smile melted slowly, until only worry remained.

"The boy barely mentioned him. Dimitri should have been the one leading the army, and yet, the kid didn't have much to say about him. Instead, it seemed like Lord Rodrigue was the one making the decisions."

They all knew what it probably meant. Either Dimitri was too wounded to be able to take command, or... Well, they all remembered how he was, after the tomb, when Edelgard's treachery had been revealed. Hilda remembered. She had been scared. She had never been scared of the prince before. She had wondered if that was what Felix had seen, that made him look at his old friend with that mix of longing and sheer terror.

"I like to think that if our beloved prince was in charge," Yuri started, "he would have sent for us. A call for help, anything. We used to be friends, after all, and we managed to avoid any conflict with Kingdom forces. The lords over there must know that we're not their enemies."

"The boy had to sneak in to talk to us," Claude added, "dear old Mercedes sent him down in secret. That's not the attitude of people who know for sure that we're not their enemies. They're wary of us."

Dimitri would not have been wary of them. Dimitri had helped Marianne with her anxiety, and smiled like Claude was the most wonderful thing this world had borne. He and Hilda had barely talked, but once, he had pronounced a few words to her, some thanks, sincere, for what they had done for Felix. The words oozed trust to the point Hilda had felt dizzy. Where, in the Alliance, would you find such trust? You could fight a thousand battles together and still fear that your neighbour would turn on you for profit.

"Dimitri wouldn't be wary of us if he was in his right mind," she mumbled.

"I'm not sure we ever knew Dimitri in his right mind."

Claude's words were sad. And Hilda knew exactly what he meant. As sincere and nice as the young prince had been, they had never known a Dimitri who hadn't been haunted. Sooner or later, something would have broken, and the way he pretended to be fine, so convincing only Felix hadn't been fooled, wasn't a good way to handle such sickness of the mind. He should have been looked for, watched over, guided through the darkness.

But a prince of Faerghus wasn't allowed weakness anymore than an Alliance noble. And so, everyone had stayed silent and let him break. Hilda crossed her arms, thinking about a ribbon she had been holding on for so long, now missing from her pocket.

"I hope Felix is alright," she said.

"He probably isn't," Yuri said, matter of fact, "the war hasn't let up in five years and the Kingdom is the place that has suffered the most from it. His lands are on the frontline. Even if it wasn't for that, he is stuck with memories of traumas and can't even hide from them."

Hilda winced. Yuri tilted his head, the next words in his mouth bitter and sadder than anything.

"According to what Hapi learnt, Dimitri has called him 'Glenn' in public at least once."

Aaand now she felt sick. Hopefully, the kid had given him the ribbon. She hoped it'd help even if she didn't know how. Now she wanted to run there and drag her friend down here, with them. Yes, she knew it wouldn't help, if anything it might make things worse. That didn't mean she couldn't dream of it.

Claude clapped once, sharply, making her jump in surprise. Her leader looked somber, but his eyes were clear, looking towards the present day and what they could do instead of wallowing for too long. A good thing, probably.

"Enough," he said firmly, "this was way too depressing and we don't have time to just... feel down while doing nothing. Yuri, I know you had business to attend in Abyss, didn't you?"

"Sure did," the beautiful young man answered with his usual little smile, "almost forgot about it too. Reminiscing is a terrible trap, don't you think?"

"It is. I too am late in what I need to do. Seteth wanted to discuss our contingent plans for Myrddin, in case our current scheme doesn't work."

"It will work," Hilda asserted without any doubt, "though it's indeed better to be safe than sorry."

"This reminds me," Yuri said to her, "Hilda, I heard there was something going on with your wyvern. Could you check on her?"

There was a glint in his eye and that was the only reason she didn't balk at him, offended. Her wyvern was perfectly fine, she knew it, she had made sure of it, what was he talking about? She complained loudly, to maintain appearances, wondering inside what he really wanted her to do. Why couldn't these boys be honest with their words, really?

And so she started walking towards the wyvern stalls. Only to stop when, on the way, she bumped with a tall, red-haired silhouette.

Ferdinand's eyes were red and puffy, as if he had just been crying.

"Oh, Hilda!" Ferdinand exclaimed, smiling without his usual ease. "I hope you are alright."

His voice was shaking. And just like that, Hilda knew whatever she was supposed to do with her wyvern would have to wait.

"I am," Hilda said, "you're not. Come on, Ferdinand dearie, let's get some tea."

They had some southern fruit blend. Hilda's favourite and one of Ferdinand's too. If anything could lift up his mood, it would have been that. The red-haired man still looked distraught, despite his smile. Hilda thought about teasing him into making the tea for them, he was much more apt at it than she was after all. But with how glazed over his eyes were, she had felt it wasn't the best of ideas.

"I hope it's not too bad," she said pleasantly, "I tried to apply your advice."

"It's delightful, Hilda," he said with a small smile, "thank you for doing so much for me."

"Oh, you know it's not a problem. Now tell me, what put you into such a state? Did these knights insult you again? Do we need to beat up someone?"

Hatred directed at the young man because of his Imperial origins had been sadly recurrent since they had established camp at Garreg Mach. The only reason Linhardt didn’t get as much was because he had elected to stay in the infirmary, while Ferdinand himself had become a war commander. Hilda had taken upon herself to rectify the situation and defend her friend's honour whenever she happened to be near. She had played the knights underestimating her like a bunch of cheap fiddles and enjoyed every second of it. Battle still held no interest for her, but she was good at it, and there was nothing more pleasant, during bad days, than watching the _realization_ slowly appearing in the eyes of every asshole to have thought she was weak.

"Oh no, Hilda," he said with a small, self-deprecating laugh, "no it is nothing you can help with though it is nice of you to ask."

"Try me, you can't be sure!"

He took a sip, eyes lowered.

"I do not think you can fight memories, my friend..."

Hilda's hand froze on the small cake she had been about to eat.

"Oh, Ferdinand," she sighed, "what did you find?"

"Old notebooks," he admitted, "half-burnt. They had been thrown away, I found them when I went to get firewood. I recognized the writings on it."

"Were they yours?"

"Mine, yes. And Hubert's."

He was right in that there was nothing she could do then. Nothing except pour him tea. She raised the teapot, silently asking if he wanted more. He nodded gratefully. Then, after a few additional sips, he started speaking again.

"When we were studying," Ferdinand started with a small hesitation, "we made up a code. We thought it could help us send secret messages, later, when we'd serve Edelgard. We spent a lot of time on it, it was some kind of pet project of ours. He once used it to insult me, I answered by using it to express my distaste of coffee."

He chuckled a bit, and wasn't that sound too sad for words.

"That's going to be weird, but I never felt closer to him than when we were working on it. It was our thing, just the two of us, even Edelgard couldn't touch it. It made me think that maybe... Maybe I was at least as close to his heart as she is."

He leaned his head against the wall. There were no more tears in his eyes, just emptiness, resignation.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is... that I wish I had a better hold on his heart than I really did. Maybe he would have followed me, then."

"He's made his choice," she replied, "and so have you."

"We have," Ferdinand mumbled, "I couldn't live with myself if I had followed Edelgard. And he couldn't live with himself if he didn't. So now we have to live with ourselves, but without each other."

He wasn't blaming her, Hilda noted, but that was another thing Edelgard's war had ripped from him.

"We're glad to have you here," she told him.

"I know. And I'm glad I'm here, despite everything. I would never support someone who thinks such violence against innocent people could be justified by anything."

Another sigh, he finished his cup, staring at it sadly.

"But as I saw many times with my own father, some nobles don't even see their citizens as people. Just casualties. So the citizens of other countries? They wouldn't care either."

And that was what had brought him to Claude's side immediately, Hilda knew. First it had been the monastery, how Seteth and lady Rhea's priority had immediately been to evacuate the villages surrounding their holy place. And then it had been Claude, making sure most of the people who had nowhere to go would find a place, somewhere in the Alliance. The way he had then played the game, to avoid conflict as much as possible, stalling for time while keeping the lands as safe as he could...

From inside eyes, most people had seen what he had done as not enough, Gloucester ruining most of his efforts by letting Empire agents into the country regularly, seeding distrust and danger. From the outside and the eyes of those he was impeding, what he had done was remarkable. Ferdinand had gone to Derdriu barely a few months after the monastery's fall, looking frazzled, but somehow unharmed. And right there, he had bent the knee to the Golden Deer leader, swearing to serve him.

It was the first time Hilda had seen someone bend the knee to her friend, and by the way he had looked, it might have been the first time it had happened.

"We'll do what we can to avoid unnecessary deaths," she said at last.

"I know that," he smiled, "that's why I'm here."

And then he bowed, proper and polite, like Ferdinand von Aegir had always been.

"Thank you for the tea, Hilda, it was much appreciated."

He insisted on bringing the tea set to be washed, Hilda barely hesitated before accepting. Let not have others assume she was above not making efforts, now, she sometimes dearly wanted to be underestimated again. Plus, she still had to go to her wyvern. She hoped whatever would be waiting for her, there, wasn’t urgent.

The moment she heard the sobs, she realized it clearly was. So it was one of these days, huh? Well, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t already spent whole days comforting crying men. They all had. That was what war did to you...

No one was crying in her wyvern's stall, but in the one just near. The one containing Lujayn, Claude's beautiful white wyvern. With the noises the beast was making, she seemed to be trying to comfort the one hiding in there, something she had proved strangely efficient at. Claude tended to ask the most distraught of their men to tend to her. She had a talent, with that big nose of hers, to lift their spirits.

As she opened the door, one intelligent red eye turned to her, before going back to the young man she was tenderly nuzzling. Grey hair and blue clothes, a freckled nose buried against the soft white scales.

"Ashe?" she said softly. "how long have you been here?"

The boy jumped, scrambling to his feet in some attempt at dignity. Hilda sat beside him instead, petting Lujayn. Of course Yuri would have sent her to Ashe. He was attached to him, had always been. From what she had seen, the lone wolf had fought his own feelings about Lord Gwendal the whole way back just to be able to support Ashe, who had looked so lost he had needed someone to lean on.

"You haven't gone to clean yourself up," she said teasingly as if he wasn't crying his heart out, "it's been a few hours since we've come back, the baths should be empty if that's what you were waiting for."

He was shaking.

"I don't know," he muttered, "I... I can't face..."

Finding Ashe on the enemy's side had been hard. Hilda never had seen Yuri's hand shake before, as he was confronted by two faces of his childhood, people he cared for. The professor had managed to sway Ashe's heart, have him surrender peacefully. No one had managed to do the same with Lord Gwendal.

"No one is angry at you," she comforted him.

"They should be!" he snapped before recoiling, and the only reason she didn't jump herself was because she expected it. Ashe's emotions had always been volatile, running hard.

"Ashe..."

"They should be!" he repeated, weakly. "I spent so long, wishing to be a knight, thinking about their legends, wanting to be one myself. And yet when it comes time to make the very first important choice in my life? I end up unable to make the right one!"

"This is war," she reminded him, "in some cases, the right choice barely exists."

"Maybe, but still! I turned against my friends. They're all there, in the Resistance. I should have joined them! I didn't because... Because I thought it was my duty to Lord Lonato, to stay in his lands. But a good knight isn't just his duty, he's..."

Ashe had refused to join the Kingdom's forces when Hilda had asked him if he wanted to. He couldn't face them. Trembling, crying, he couldn't see them, knowing he had been on their enemy's side for so long, fighting against them.

"They would understand," she promised, and she might be wrong there, not everyone would, but the Blue Lions who knew him? Earnest and kind to a fault. Yes they would. They would understand. "I'm sure they'd forgive you."

"But what if I can't forgive myself?"

Her hand found his back, patting it while Lujayn pushed her head against his neck.

"Is that why you wouldn't go back to them?"

"Dedue is dead."

After a second to process the words, she winced. Oh. She hadn’t known. But somehow she should have expected it...

"According to Yuri, he helped His Highness escape execution. I just..."

He took a shuddering breath and let his head rest against the wyvern's neck.

"If I were to join them, even if they forgave me... All I could think of was... that someone was missing. And I just couldn't stand it. Not... Not now. I need time, to escape, to... get my bearings, away from the memories..."

There was something that shifted in his eyes as he said that. Like an understanding. Hida had an inkling what it was he had just realized, but decided to stay silent. She was the first one to joke about Claude and how he tended to adopt sad cats when no one was looking, but said sad cats would probably take it badly were she to point out that tendency to them. They weren't sad, thank you very much, they were here for Very Important Reasons.

"Distance can be necessary to heal," she said, thinking about how Felix had known that, but had never been able to completely stay away. "That doesn't mean you have to forget all about them. Or about your hurt."

Ashe nodded weakly. Hilda smiled, punching his shoulder lightly.

"Anyway," she cleared her throat, "thanks for taking care of Lujayn. She's a kind one, right?"

"Ah. Yes. She is really sweet. She's Claude's, right?"

"Yep. He says he saved her when she was small."

"Really? I don't remember him riding her, back at the academy..."

"Oh no, she was too young. He had Destra back then. She's the one I'm riding, next door. I'm supposed to be taking care of her..."

She groaned in annoyance. Immediately, Ashe rose to his feet, disturbing the wyvern that had started slumbering against him. The beast made a sound that sounded like an aggravated grumble and then pouted. Hilda scratched her neck as an apology.

"Do you want help?" he asked sincerely. "That's the least I can do after you were so kind to me."

Hilda hadn't felt especially kind. But others seemed to find her bubbly presence comforting, somewhat. And since she hated seeing people being miserable, she couldn't really help it. She had embraced her role as a shoulder to cry on without any hesitation.

"I don't know," she answered, "you already have your hands full with whitey here, don't you? Claude cares a lot about her after all."

"Claude cares a lot about wyverns," Ashe smiled, and it looked sincere, a bit amused.

"And they like him back," she groaned, "I swear, Destra likes him and Marianne more than she likes me."

The boy laughed a bit, a victory in Hilda's eyes.

"I'm serious, Hilda, if you want me to help you..."

"Miss Goneril!"

She hadn't heard the man come nearer. It was the gatekeeper, the one who was always smiling, standing at the monastery's door. What could have made him leave his post, she didn't know, but it must have been important.

"Hey there!" She greeted him, leaving the stall. "What is it?"

"There's a missive for you, from your brother! Apparently, it's quite urgent."

A missive from her brother. With barely a thank you, she took it from him and ripped it open, trepidation making her hands shake.

"Actually," she told Ashe as she read it, "I might have to take you up on that offer."

"Sure," Ashe said, worried, "but is everything alright?"

And Hilda laughed.

"Alright? Things have never been better. Thanks again, Ashe, mister Gatekeeper. If you'll excuse me, I have to run to our Fearless Leader."

And run she did, excitement and trepidation rushing through her body.

Anyday they wanted, now, the moment the men would be rested and ready to go, they could march onto Myrddin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's pretty aggravating when CF is a literal trigger to you, yet you enjoy Ferdibert as a couple. The result seems to be tragic Ferdibert for me :/ sorry Ferdie, I love you but the only scenario in which I can see your boyfriend joining your side would render this fic moot. So another day, maybe.  
> In any case, I've always thought it interesting how almost immediately after the war is declared Rhea and Seteth evacuate the citizens around Garreg Mach, Claude always evacuates Derdriu when the fight reaches it, Dimitri goes to Tailtean to avoid a bloodbath in Fhirdiad, and yet Enbarr is always explicitely not evacuated when it's attacked with Claude even icily noting that Edelgard is using the population as a shield. Seeing how much Ferdinand seems to care for his subjects, I've always figured it couldn't sit well with him. But yeah, him being here along with Linhardt, and Caspar being up north means that I unintentionally had all BE guys betraying the Empire, while the girls are stuck there... Welp I guess we'll have to see what I do with them, heh?  
> Also I'm not entirely sure how I ended up with confident-kinda-therapist Hilda, but it seemed like a logicial continuation somewhat? Between Claude asking her to see to Yuri in chapter 12 and then her trying to figure out ways to make people around her happy in chapter 13, it felt natural to me. I hope you liked it <3 I figured Ashe and Ferdinand both needed a bit of kindness and happiness right now, so she was the logical choice, since Annette and Mercedes aren't here x)  
> Next chapter will be... A bit special, but we've reached 1/4th of the story (damn, it's hard to believe) and so this chapter, the previous one and the next one or two feel kind of like a transition if it makes sense? Oh well, why am I trying to warn you in advance? We'll see when we get to it, after all. With the end of the year coming in... damn _two weeks already?_ Wow... In any case, I'm not sure if I'll manage to keep up my writing and posting rhythm. I'll try to, though! I promise!


	16. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri and Judai have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well damn here we are, reaching 100K with this chapter, huh? It wasn't intentional but I think it's appropriate that we do so with the first Dimitri pov chapter since the prologue! He's the guy that started it all, so let's give him this :) (and on his birthday too!)  
> However... Yeah, pov Dimitri, you probably know what that means. **A lot of disturbing thoughts and imagery, reader discretion is definitely advised, please be careful.** While I know I'm not the most graphic writer out there and probably could have made Dimitri's musings worse, there are still warnings for a reason and this chapter is one of them.

**Chapitre 15**

_'Cause nobody wants to be alone,_

_Even if they're only ghosts._

**12th day of the Lone Moon, Imperial Year 1185**

**Dimitri**

For as long as he could remember, death had been a constant in Dimitri’s life.

It had started very young, with the plague and his mother's death. Half the castle had succumbed before Lady Cornelia had managed to save them all. He had grown up surrounded by the consequences of these deaths, never blissfully ignorant of its reality like so many children were. Maybe that was why ghosts had always felt somewhat familiar.

But as time had gone and passed, they had only gotten more and more angry. With the world. With the living.

With him.

"I promise," he begged as they screamed, deafening and furious, "I promise, I'll bring you her head."

The screams weren't the worst part. At least he couldn't understand them. Much worse were the disappointed stares, the disparaging comments, the laughter, pitying and mocking and reminding him of what he was, had been for almost half of his life... no, it couldn't be called a life. He had died with them that day, his corpse only staying animated through their will, as they used him like a tool. A tool terribly bad at its job. Why wasn't he already down there, instead about to march through lands that weren't his, slowly, too slowly. So many years and he still hadn't taken her head, that witch's, the one responsible for so many deaths.

"Soon," he mumbled against the flames that kept burning at him in his mind, "I promise. Soon."

It was a foolish promise. One he wanted to accomplish more than anything else, but one he also did not have any other choice but to follow through. He couldn't avoid it, he just couldn't, he had to, he had to because it was his fault and his duty, his responsibility and his atonement.

They screamed, they screamed, eyes wild and insane, smiles savage and mocking. They laughed at his misery, they scoffed at his failures, contempt and disgust on their features. Their haunting, disappointed growls never ceased, like a hand on his throat holding it tighter and tighter and tighter until he was but a breathless shivering mess, curled up on the ground and gasping, begging for forgiveness, swearing he'd give them peace, promising they'd be avenged. Every single one of their appearances was a stab he could barely feel anymore, but now it was the aggravation, the disappointment and the complete absence of trust that was eating at him, plunging deep inside his rotten heart and ripping it out, piece after piece.

"I promise," he gasped again, feeling ice in his throat, wondering if he was finally going to die here in the snow, a real corpse at last, an error made right.

Why had he lived that day if he still could not give the dead their tribute, their due? It was for them, all for them, it had always been for them. Who was he without them? Ice tore through his chest, cold, cold, cold, the closest he could come to a proof of affection these days, as if these vengeful creatures had chosen to actually embrace him, murmuring words in his ear. Words reminding him of what he was. Stupid, useless, weak, worthless. A failure. A failure through and through.

There was something painful about the cold, but he welcomed it all the same. Like a lightning, rushing through him, and everytime the mumbling got louder, the screams harsher, the stares more and more full of disdain. Cold, cold, ice and cold and lightning and he was shivering, barely holding himself together.

" _You're so weak_ ," his father reminded him, " _how did you let all of this happen?_ "

" _Look at the snivelling brat,_ " his step-mother sneered, _"he can't do anything except murder things. And he can't even murder my traitorous daughter!_ "

" _I'd be down there already,_ " Glenn added, mocking snarl and all, all hidden by the way his face was half-burnt, blood covering the other half, " _I'd have her head. I'd be back where I belong. I'd have done so years ago and you know it. Why are you there when_ I _would already be_ done _?_ "

Dimitri slumped, shivering, unable to answer. He muttered promises, again, the usual distress running through his veins along with the ice, the anguish at disappointing them, the pain at knowing how right they were. He was sorry, he was sorry, he was so so sorry. And behind these three there was...

There was Dedue.

His imposing friend was looking at him in silence, these deep, piercing eyes staring at him with so much disappointment he thought he would choke. More ice-cold lightning, going right through him and he recoiled, feeling tears welling up in his eye. He shook his head, pushing back the hysteria and swallowing his abject agony. He didn't have that right, he didn't!

"Please," he begged anyway, despite the self-disgust muffling his voice, "please stop looking at me like that... Please..."

"Hey, Dimitri."

The voice pierced through the cold and the flames in his memory, extinguishing them with the strength of a storm. The screams ceased, turning into mutters. Not silent, no, never, but quieter. And just like that he knew which pesky living creature had called for his attention.

He turned, febrile, both uncertain as his guiding tormentors left him alone and relieved by the small respite.

"What do you want?" he asked Judai harshly.

The boy - monster - creature - holy being - whatever he was had a gift for quieting the spirits in his head, but they were angry afterwards, oh they were. Angry at being ignored, angry at not being his priority for just a few minutes. But despite his small frame and soft voice, the boy - thing - immortal - whatever he was forced attention on him, his presence overwhelming.

He sat in front of Dimitri, a smile on his face. Empty, empty smile. No more real than those Dimitri had arbored when he had pretended to be alive.

There was something hauntingly familiar about him, something Dimitri had a hard time placing. Not even physically, but a presence. It was astonishingly comforting and devastating at the same time, a sensation of familiarity and danger both, a warm certainty and a cold dread. It was a feeling screaming 'home, I'm home' and 'who are you?' in the same breath. It was confusion and a tentative touch. It was having no doubt that you knew that person while knowing that you two had never met.

It was terrifying, yet compelling, and Dimitri didn't have it in him to try to understand it.

"I've been tasked with telling you the plan. Basically, we're going to move through Leicester lands, trying to avoid conflict, and for now we’re thinking of following the path they're going to open up towards the Empire instead of opening our own."

Leicester. For a few seconds, images came back to him. Warmth, a smile, laughing green eyes... And then hisses. His ghosts, in his head, refusing to let his thoughts turn to someone else.

"I don't care who opens it," he growled, "as long as it's open."

In front of him, Judai stayed silent for a bit, looking at him with these unreadable eyes, both so warm and so remote. He had ghosts too, he had said. Dimitri definitely believed him, he was every bit the walking smiling mask he himself had tried on before realizing what a fool he had been.

"So you really won't try to save your people first? Free your country?"

He had heard that question more than enough times, a bitter laugh escaped his throat. Rash and raspy, an inhuman sound.

"Save? Free? Ridiculous, I am nothing but a weapon. The only ones I can help are the dead."

"Are you really thinking that or is your wish for revenge blinding you?"

"This war can only end with her head at my feet."

Judai sighed. The universal sound of disappointment, eyes heavy and sad. It hurt. He didn't know why it hurt so much. He saw it everyday, disappointment, was used to it and from people dearer to him. Dedue, his father, his step-mother, Glenn... And yet seeing these warm brown eyes, so sad, was unbearable. He turned away, as if to end the conversation, not feeling able to see them anymore.

Glenn, Glenn had been disappointed in him, once, hadn’t he? Not as a ghost, but when he was alive (The ghosts were always disappointed, always, always, always...) and he had had the same kind of sad gaze, a gaze saying that he didn't want to be angry at Dimitri, he really didn't - he wasn't in fact, but that Dimitri had made a mistake that one time, a really bad one. Dimitri didn't even remember what it had been, just that it had left Felix in tears, running to Sylvain, probably. It was as usual. They didn't fight that much, him and Felix, but everytime they did, it ended that way. Tears. Dimitri didn't even remember what it had been that had made Glenn look so much more severe that one time. He didn't remember. He just remembered crying too, afterwards, swearing that whatever it was he had said, he didn't mean it, that he didn't want Felix and Glenn to hate him.

Glenn had comforted him back then, with that small smirk of his, calling them both idiots and saying that they had to fix their own mistakes.

Here they were, more than ten years later, Dimitri having more mistakes to fix than a lifetime would permit, but only having the will and time to do it for one. One that implied a severed head and ghosts finally sated, satisfied.

His grip on Areadbhar got tighter. Yes. It was the one thing he could still fix, the one thing, the one thing.... He was nothing else anymore, anyway.

He heard Judai stand.

"Do you want to become a tyrant?"

The words lacked any emotion or accusation. They were tired, if anything. Dimitri scoffed.

"Only leaders can become tyrants. I am no leader."

"What are you, then, with so many people following you?"

"I am the weapon of the dead," he spat, "whoever follows me is only responsible for their own choices."

He didn't have to see the look this time to just feel the disappointment coming from behind him. Yet, the hand that fell on his arm was understanding. So small, he should have batted him away.

He had always been weak in front of fragile-looking creatures, even ones that couldn't be killed.

"You haven't gone too far yet," Judai said, his voice strangely kind, as if kindness was what Dimitri deserved, "you can still come back."

Dimitri scoffed.

"Come back from what?"

"From the place that might force me to stop you."

It was a threat. Dimitri knew it, numbly, despite how it sounded. It didn't sound like a threat, the tone, the voice, even the words barely had anything threatening in them. And maybe that was why Dimitri couldn't find it in himself to feel angry at it, despite the rage that shook his bones every second of the day.

"Really, now."

"I don't want to. I really, sincerely hope it doesn't come to that."

Should he have felt afraid?

Perhaps. He didn't, though. Because he already knew exactly that there was no way he could win against an immortal man. Because every wound he could inflict on Judai would be inflicted back on him. There was no reason to fear a battle you had no chance of winning, better accept your fate and enjoy, enjoy from the afterlife the way that immortal creature would wreak havoc on the undeserving ones.

Divine retribution, finally coming through. That was how Dimitri saw that boy. Divine retribution in a fragile looking body, arboring warmth, kindness and fake joy, compassion, all hiding devastating power. Just like Dimitri had been as a foolish child. The day the world broke Judai Yuki, it would be in for a rude awakening.

The hand left his arm and Dimitri wondered if finally, _finally_ (hopefully not) he'd leave him alone with the spirits that had been his only company for so long.

Instead, Judai came back in front of him, looking no more disturbed by his threat than if he had been talking about the weather.

"Hey," he said, "tell me about your ghosts."

He stared. What?

The young man hummed, a small, embarrassed sound that sounded awfully sincere.

"Your ghosts. Who are they? Can you tell me? I'll talk about mine next, if you want."

That was the most morbid subject of conversation Dimitri could think of. He didn't want to talk, anyway, but Judai's eyes were insistent, curious but without judgement. And maybe, since they were going to be furious anyway, just a few more moments without the screams of his ghosts would do fine. And he wasn't forgetting about them, he promised, he promised, he wasn't! He was going to talk about them, even, it was proof wasn't it?

Raspy voice and all, he told him. He told him about Dedue, how he had saved him once, how he had been so loyal and kind, an amazing cook and a great gardener, a kind person who didn't smile or talk much but was amazing in every single way that mattered. How he had been cut down in front of him while helping him escape his execution, killed like a dog. He told him about how silent his ghost was, watching and judging instead of screaming like the others.

He told him about his father, King Lambert, so strong and magnificent, kind but firm in everything, how he could be so generous, but not soft, no, he couldn't let himself be soft. He talked about how he had offered him his first sword when he was but four years old, how Rodrigue had made fun of him for that, for years, when they were in private, reminding his dear friend that children and weapons weren't a good combination. Lambert had always seemed so sheepish at that, admitting that he had panicked at the time, thinking none of the gifts he had thought up for his little boy could be fine enough, before settling impulsively on the one thing he knew would make _him_ happy anytime. Dimitri had liked swords, once, he figured it was his father who had made him love them at the time. He talked about how he saw his father’s head, torn from his shoulders as he screamed for revenge. He had carried that head after the battle, somehow wondering, with his broken mind, if reuniting it with its body could bring his father back.

He talked about his step-mother, lady Patricia, the kindest woman he knew, sweet, who loved the arts and would brush his hair for hours when he was a kid, something that relaxed them both. He talked about how she had taught him how to read and how she had been skilled with the needle, how she had loved horses and showed him how to ride, how she had comforted him everytime he felt he hadn't met expectations. And he talked about how her carriage ran into the flames, how when they found it again it had been empty, everything around it so burnt down they couldn't even find remnants of her body's or her servant's.

He talked about the knights he had grown up with, their jokes, their teasing, their loyalty, and how they had been slaughtered like beasts. He talked about Glenn, a brother in everything but blood. How, he had been the best example of a knight he had ever seen, decorated at fifteen, a role model he had always looked up to, always so strong and knowledgeable, he had seemed to be aware of everything at the time, despite only being four years older than him. How he had known that there was something wrong with Miklan and Sylvain a long time before it was made public, how he had known everytime his brother was upset, how he had known when Dimitri was hiding an injury, how he had known when Ingrid had just spent a bad winter at home, because Galatea could not afford much food this year. And how he had walked into the flames, three arrows stuck in his back, looking scared out of his mind, but rushing forward anyway. How he had to have regretted it, how he sure did now as a ghost, screaming in his ear again and again, glaring and ordering him to bring him the head of the one responsible.

"His brother," Judai repeated numbly, the first time he talked ever since Dimitri had started speaking. Dimitri had almost forgotten about him, lost in his reminiscence.

He shook himself from it, startled. After so much time with only memories for company, mentioning them out loud almost seemed like dirtying their memory, dishonouring them. Who was he, a lowly beast, to mention their names out loud?

Dimitri simply grunted as an answer, self-hatred and fury choking his throat and stopping him from forming any other word. Judai frowned.

"Glenn... had a brother," he repeated slowly, "a little brother."

Yes he did. Dimitri shrugged, Felix's furious glare passing through his mind. The one person who had known what he was from the beginning, he thought with grim humour, no one had listened. Just like when they were children. What a joke.

"... Is his name Felix?" Judai's voice was unreadable, but there was something sad, in his tone, something disappointed, just like that time Glenn had scolded him, that time he couldn't forget.

Dimitri hummed, toneless, slightly wondering where he had heard that name. Well, he had seen Rodrigue, hadn't he? The man couldn't have been a ghost, he had smiled and welcomed him, that wasn't what his ghosts did. If Rodrigue had died (just like his other father, that would be exactly the kind of game he expected Fate to play on a decayed corpse barely hanging on to life like him), he wouldn't have cried in happiness at seeing him. He would have snarled too, and glared, and told him how disappointing he was. Useless, useless, useless...

"I'm right, am I not?" Judai mumbled behind him.

Rodrigue, Rodrigue. He had seen Rodrigue. So maybe that was how Judai knew Felix. Felix, who hated him and wanted nothing to do with the beast he had always known him to be, would probably have come to meet his father once or twice.

"He's with us, you know?"

"Who?"

"Glenn's brother. He's here, with the army. And alive. And he deserves better than being called by a name that isn't his."

Felix was... here?

There was a hissing in his ear and he curled a bit on himself as Glenn's ghost glared, hatred shining in his amber eyes. Glenn's ghost, who snarled and stared and kept appearing with that unreadable look. Even now he was there, looking furious, and as Dimitri looked at him, his mind supplied just one small bit of information it had forgotten.

Didn't Glenn have grey eyes?

And longer, wavier hair, that he used to braid with care, Ingrid had imitated him for years... And his face was fuller, or maybe it had been childhood clinging to his features.

Had he seen Felix all this time?

But right now, there was no doubt. His appearance morphing as Dimitri tried to remember when, exactly, his friend's appearance had changed so much. The ghost, covered in blood and screaming mutely against his skull was Glenn.

So Felix was alive? That much wasn't surprising. He ignored the way his chest suddenly felt lighter, focusing on what he didn't understand. If Felix was alive, why would he be here?

There was one thing Dimitri had known for certain, ever since the first days at Garreg Mach, and it was that his old friend hated him. With a burning passion. He saw him like no one else did, disgust marring his face every time he appeared. Oh, Dimitri didn't blame him one second. He was right after all, what good had pretending done to him? He was an animal, a weapon, not a human being. He should have embraced it a long time ago.

Fingers snapped in front of him and the ghosts were silenced again. Judai looked tired when he stepped back.

"What am I going to do with you?" he muttered, sounding exhausted. "In any case, let’s go back to the beginning, just in case you forgot. We're going through Leicester. Not your lands. Don't you have anything to say about that?"

Dimitri had no idea what he expected him to say. Even in the... weeks? Months? (Time was absent, he didn't know when he had last slept, he didn't remember... Everything happened in different waves, as if his mind was barely able to connect some things together when others were already finished) Ever since they had met, surely, he hadn't led Judai to believe he could read his mind?

"I don't." he growled.

"Why would you not, I don't know, try to warn the leader of Leicester? Just in case he believes it’s an invasion?"

The leader of Leicester. Once again, warm green eyes smiled at him and his ghosts hissed in fury. His ghosts had always hated that man, always, always. A distraction, they called him, a sun that made him forget about them, that made him think he could leave them behind. They hated him, hated him, hated him, hated him..

"It won’t be necessary," he snapped, desperately, "as long as it gets me to the Empire, to _her_ , then I’ll kill whoever’s on my way."

Judai stared silently. Briefly, he looked like a dead soul, like those watching them silently with contempt. Face pale and drawn, full of disapproval. But Judai didn't start screaming, roaring for revenge or action. Judai stepped closer and crossed his arms.

"Well, I guess it's my turn. After all, I promised."

"Your turn?"

"To tell you about my ghosts."

Ghosts. Not being the only one who was haunted was not a relief. Watching that boy, smiling and talking despite the graves he carried on his back brought nothing but memories of years he needed to forget. He would break. Sooner or later the boy would break.

"Back in my time, we thought the soul and its strength meant a lot," Judai started, "we summoned souls after all, spirits, uncorporeal beings that would do our bidding. We used to believe that the greatest trick of them all was when one could summon their own soul and have it fight in their place."

That was the kind of unbelievable thing Dimitri had come to expect for him. He just stood there, as Judai closed his eyes, face drawn in pain.

“Most of my friends were strong people, and it could be seen in their soul. In the form it took. Were they to summon it, it would have taken the form of a dragon. It was only supposed to be a theory, we didn’t think we’d actually ever have to do that, children that we were... But they ended up having to summon them, because we ended up having to fight our own war too, far too quickly, were we just a bunch of kids… But I was intimately familiar with how their souls looked, by the end."

He sighed.

"And then they died. In front of me."

I can still hear them screaming, he didn't say, but he didn't have to. Dimitri could read it on his face, hear it in his own memories.

"Did you avenge them?" he said simply. Judai's laugh was bitter.

"Oh yes, I did. I avenged them again and again, but that's the secret isn't it? Revenge didn't help. It didn't stop the pain for even one second. It was the most unfulfilling thing I had ever tried and I let it twist me into an uncaring _husk_ , who only killed and conquered without care. And their ghosts? Well they never _actually_ appeared to me. I hallucinated them, yes, a lot, heard them telling me all I had done wrong, all I could have done to save them. But it wasn’t them. Not even their dragons. I never saw them. Back then, they ignored me, and even today I can’t see them and that's awful to say, but I kind of wish their ghosts were here, not just the guilt drowning me, because despite what it’d mean, at least I'd feel less alone."

Alone.

Dimitri couldn't remember the last time he had been entirely alone. No spirit to hold him company with broken laughter, glares or howling. In the last five years, they had always been there. He would never have called their presence comforting, yet maybe he was a lucky one without knowing it.

Ridiculous, of course he was a lucky one, still on that sad land, able to fight for their peace of mind.

"Dragons," he muttered, "the one time we saw such a creature, it was assumed to be sent from the Goddess. Were you one of her children?"

"Not really," Judai laughed, the sound almost amused, "but while we're not the same, we're not entirely different, her and I."

The young man looked around, at the clearing they were in. There was a city, not far from here, towards which they had been walking so the army could rest before finally leaving Faerghus. Dimitri had stayed far from it. Things like him weren’t welcome near civilization.

"As I slept," Judai said more slowly, "I think I faded away from History. Time forgot about me."

He wasn't entirely different from the Goddess, he said. Dimitri had felt for a long time that the Goddess wasn't all powerful, that as she existed, she could do nothing but stare down at them in sadness. He wondered if she was asleep, the way Judai had been (but her tomb had been empty, hadn't it? Judai's tomb wasn't.).

He wondered if, had Judai ben awake all this time, he would have been revered the way she was.

It was disturbing to think of. For all that he silenced the ghosts and was unkillable, Judai was still terribly human. A person, not a deity. Everyone saw the Gods as these terribly powerful beings responsible for much, good or bad. The Goddess was the one who had given them life and land, but also the one who had destroyed Ailell. The Goddess was a powerful entity, but who could now do nothing but watch as her wretched creations killed each other. He couldn't wait for the day she'd judge him, guilty and doomed for eternity to haunt the land as another ghost on someone's back.

The ghosts' hisses were louder once again.

Judai wasn't how anyone pictured deities. He was more akin to Lady Rhea, the Archbishop, an otherworldly woman, but a woman all the same, who could fail despite good intentions. Who could lead and help, but who people could still question, wonder about, and think of as a person, without the godly adorations ethereal entities were privy to.

"Maybe it's you the army should follow."

The words were bitter, but sincere. Because, as the shapes around him reminded him of, what good was he, unable to even avenge them after all this time? They didn't speak right now, still silenced despite a few growls. But their eyes, their eyes.

Don't look at me like that, he thought with terror, please do not. I promise I'll give you peace, I promise.

They knew he was lying just as well as he did. He was useless, a monster who couldn't even murder the right people. No one should follow him when he was such a failure of a reaper. A living corpse who couldn't even use his life right.

"What?"

That one word was terribly weak. Dimitri tried to focus his eye, away from the ghosts, right on that pale face, paler than it had any right to be, as if one of the white shapes had elected domicile on his skin. His eyes were shaking, as in sheer terror, his whole body was shivering, like it had, months ago, under his coat.

"Don't say that." the words were weak, again, but they got stronger yet strangely desperate." Do not ever say that again, please! Never. Never let me lead an army, I am serious!"

"You'd be a better choice than a corpse."

Judai burst out laughing at that. The sound was ugly and horrified, that boy who had heard about his slaughters and not even blinked now sounded insane at the mere idea of leading. His small frame kept shaking without any control left to itself, a puppet with faulty strings, that couldn't put him right. Finally, the strings broke and Judai just let himself slump, laughter evaporated.

"I am not ruling or leading anything ever again," he said, voice strained, "even a corpse is a much better choice than I am. Believe me when I say that, and do not ever put me in charge of armed forces, especially for a reason as stupid as the fact that you think I'm somewhat godly."

They stared at each other in silence. The ghosts whispering quietly until his father came closer, mumbling into his ear about how Dimitri had been wrong, once again. And that obviously, the world had already broken Judai Yuki.

How much had it suffered from it was the real question left.

"Judai," a voice called, behind Dimitri.

It was Glenn. No, not Glenn. Judai had said it wasn't him. And he was indeed not how his last memories of an alive Glenn were. A bit shorter and thinner, eyes lighter, his face a different kind of handsome, lacking its usual smirk. He was wearing a sword instead of a lance.

His voice lacked his typical aggressivity, though annoyance was obvious in the way his body was moving. Nervously, as if stopping itself from exploding. His hair was much shorter, when had it become so much shorter?

Felix ignored him as long as he could, his eyes never leaving Judai's general direction. The way he crossed his arms was aggravated, his body language so alike the one of those who had been haunting him it was uncanny. No wonder Dimitri had been convinced he was one of them.

Not that it mattered anyway.

"The outfit is in the inn," Felix groaned as if saying it was particularly painful, "if you still want to try, Mercedes can help so it fits you."

He was scowling, yet his words brought a small smile on Judai's defeated face.

"Thank you," he said shakily. He stood up and nodded at the young man. His hand found Dimitri's shoulder before leaving, a small pat, something that looked like comfort.

How preposterous, to think that he needed - wanted - deserved comfort.

Watching him leave felt dangerous, his ghosts looked murderous enough, delaying their return by staring would do him no favour, better embrace what he knew he deserved.

Out of all their glares and wordless howling, Felix's eyes were the stormiest of all. He tilted his head and his voice, sharp and cold as usual, pierced the air.

"Spar with me, Boar."

Dimitri raised his lance without discussion, listening to the howling, knowing action would make it more bearable, they were softer when he was doing something after all.

And fighting? Fighting was something he knew he could do. It was the only thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a little short for my standards, and doesn't really advance the plot much, but as I once mentioned, this fic was in good part inspired by the wish of having Dimitri and Judai talk. This talk, more precisely. In a way this chapter is the very first thing I wrote of that fic! So it's an important one despite everything!  
> In any case, well... Here we are, the closest probably we can get to Judai talking about his real feelings to someone. To the one person who _definitely_ won't judge him.  
> Damn that chapter really was depressing in its entirety, huh? ... Well I promise there will be some light-hearted moments next chapter? *laughs awkwardly*


	17. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix is having both Good Times and Bad Times. He's more confused by the Good Ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! I'm not sure if I'll get time for another chapter before the end of the year, so here I am with a big chapter to compensate. Yes, it's a flashback chapter, but there's a very small hint of Judai in it!  
> Now, there are a few references to the bonus chapter I just posted in the side-story, but I don't think reading it is necessary to understand the chapter. You just need to know that due to circumstances out of their hands, Felix, Yuri and Claude learnt more about each other than they expected to.  
> Now, the first thing I wrote in this chapter is what I privately call the "Felix/Hilda B Support", I think what it talks about should be self-explanatory as to why I feel like a support conversation between the two of them could have been super interesting. There's also a small introduction to... the greatest of all my crack ships. And by that I mean that I thought it up as a fun idea but then became FAR too invested in it x) Don't expect this to be the last time we mention it, I ended up completely falling in love with them.  
> Anyway, this chapter happens BEFORE the last flashback chapter, with Hilda. We're finally going to get Felix's point of view on that whole Battle of the Eagle and the Lion debacle.

**Chapitre 16**

_Take me high and I'll sing_

_Oh you make everything okay_

_We are one in the same_

_Oh you take all of the pain away_

**15th day of the Wyvern Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

**Felix**

"Great, you're here."

Felix lifted his eyes from the training dummy he had finished skewering to meet professor Byleth Eisner. The woman looked tired, a far cry from this unemotional shell he had thought she was back when he had joined her class.

"Claude didn't sleep in his room last night," she groaned.

He could have told her that. He hadn't heard any movement next door and had slept, well... not that well, but as far as he was concerned, it had been a decent night. Sylvain hadn't slept in his own room either, that had been both a blessing and a curse. He had spent a good portion of the night wondering where he was and knowing he didn't actually want to know. When the redhead had sneaked in the corridor to get back to his room, at dawn, Felix had been torn between relief and resentment.

He hadn't worried for Claude, though. The man didn't sleep at night anyway, and if he had to bet, he was in Abyss or the library. These were his favourite haunts after all.

"I already checked the library," the professor said, "he wasn't there. And I have to prepare class for today, so I don't have time to hunt him down in Abyss. Could you get him? Something tells me he was too absorbed by his reading to keep track of time."

Felix hesitated one second, he wasn't exactly sure why. He was done with his training after all. Then he nodded briskly and put the sword away. The professor sighed and thanked him before leaving. She looked exhausted, likely the battle of the Eagle and the Lion was making her work more than usual.

The path to Abyss was startlingly familiar for someone, like him, who had only gone there a couple of times. And people down there also already knew not to bother him with trivialities. He didn't like how the Abyssians stared at him - because of his lineage or his prim and proper uniform he didn't know - but at least they usually stayed in their lane.

"Stray Cat." Yuri's voice greeted him. "Here for your leader?"

The pretty young man was standing near a weapon dealer. From how pale said dealer was, staring at him, Felix suspected his weapons not to have been obtained through decent means, not that he really cared.

"Class is about to start," he answered, "the professor asked me to get him."

"And you didn't make her work for it?"

He shrugged. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. Yuri hummed, amused, but his voice a bit stilted. Felix narrowed his eyes. Once again, Abyss's leader was avoiding his eyes.

"You're not as difficult as you seem," Yuri chuckled, "if you need to know, our Claude is in the library."

"Nothing surprising there."

"He was sleeping, last time I checked on him. So I didn't wake him up, he looked like he needed it."

He sure did. Felix wasn't sure when Claude slept, exactly, but mostly, he was starting to think the naps his leader was so fond of were the only time he closed his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" he asked bluntly.

Yuri blinked, meeting his stare for a second, before quickly averting his eyes again. The Abyssian chuckled a bit.

"You're going to be late for class," he said instead of answering, "you should hurry."

Felix's throat tightened. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, but it was hard to erase the feeling that he had done something. After all, he was a champion at that, ruining everything good he had, because things with Yuri had been good, hadn't they? A good sparring partner, someone who laughed at his snark and didn't mind his rough edges. It had been like the rest of the Deers, strangely tolerant of his ill moods.

At first, Yuri’s avoidance had been strange. It had happened since the incident with Lysithea’s spell, and the things they had learnt about each other because of it... Felix had believed Yuri’s distance to be fear, fear of what they could do with his secrets. But as he hadn’t shown Claude the same distance, Felix had started wondering if it was _his_ secret that had provoked that, even though he had no idea how. Then, he had seen the way Yuri would look at him in silence at times, eyes glazing over in a painfully familiar way, and he had known. He had known it wasn’t his _secret_ that was the problem.

He nodded without a word and left swiftly.

Claude was indeed asleep in the library, head pillowed on his arms, the torches of Abyss shadowing his eyes, as if to make apparent his level of exhaustion. Too bad Felix didn't feel merciful. He kicked the chair Claude was sitting on.

The young man jumped up awake, eyes wild, hand clutching his side for... something and panicking when he didn't find it. Then his eyes fell on Felix and, almost instantly, he relaxed, his snarl turning into a pout as he let himself fall back on the chair.

"Ow," he grumbled, "talk about a way to wake someone up."

"Don't sleep in dangerous places. Or at least take someone with you."

"Are you volunteering?" the leader yawned, stretching sleepily.

"In your dreams, I have better things to do."

"Like not participating in the Tactics meetings for the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion?"

"Don't be dumb. You're the only person I know who has the brain and self preservation necessary to create a plan that'll allow you to win both the battle _and_ the special prize, you don't need me."

Claude raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint illuminating his eyes.

"Really? Then what is it that _you_ lack? Brains, or self-preservation?"

Why was it that everytime he tried being nice, people made him regret it immediately?

"Joking, joking," Claude laughed, seeing his scowl, "you know I can't help it when you walk into these all on your own. But more seriously, Felix, you have good ideas. I like having you during tactics meetings, what you suggest is always interesting."

That wasn't what Ingrid had said, but Felix still tentatively wanted to believe him. Claude wasn't one to forego ideas just because they sounded weird after all, it shouldn't be surprising that he'd find his point of view plausible enough to dignify a few thoughts to it.

"Sure," he scoffed anyway, "as if. Whatever, you're needed. Class is about to start."

"Really? Right, of course, that's why you're here... Shame."

He started reuniting the papers he had been studying, mournfully. There was no way to tell him they'd still be here this evening, not only was it unsure at best (this was Abyss, things went missing everyday with no rhyme or reason), but Felix knew Claude enough to have realized that it was finding back where he was and writing down the results of his research that would take him time and that he wished he could have done right now. There was no way he'd remember everything without his reference.

"Did you find out a lot?" he wasn't even that curious, but Claude usually liked having a sounding board when he was trying to make sense of the discoveries he made in Abyss. Being it was an honour he could do without. But it was an honour all the same. Because the things Claude said during these rants weren't always the kind that'd give him allies.

Felix didn't exactly know what he had done to deserve that trust, truth being said. Was his lack of interest in revealing Claude’s secrets to the world really that impressive? Surely that couldn’t be how low the bar was, after all, even Hilda didn't know all the things Claude had told him, and he would have sworn that girl was his best friend. So Felix listened in silence as Claude told things that would have gotten him hunted down by probably half the monastery and the school if said to anyone else, added his snarky comment here and there, and never told any of it to anyone else. People giving him their trust was rare. Someone he actually respected giving him that trust? Not betraying it seemed like the most basic of decency. Especially when none of his research was actually motivated by malice, if anything, it only seemed to be boundless curiosity.

"Correspondence," Claude said quickly, "between old legends. Also treaties, and a good book."

"Old legends?"

"The ten Elites. Someone was mentioning Dominic. The treaties were about things the Church forbade in fear it'd lead to violent wars, it was pretty fascinating, really. But the true treasure was the book. Check this out, it mentions Gods, plural, not just the Goddess..."

"Claude," Felix interrupted him, "I know I asked but can this wait? We have class."

"Right, right! Of course! Just promise you'll listen later, there's a lot of stuff."

And he needed to say it out loud to someone who wouldn't answer. Right. That was why it made him so much preferable to, oh, why not Yuri?

Yuri who was still avoiding his gaze as they passed him. Felix chased him from his mind.

"Only if you spar with me first," he said more to say anything than because he actually wanted to spar with Claude. Not that his leader wasn't a good partner, just that he wasn't his favourite. But since his favourite seemed to be ignoring him...

"Deal, I need to get a better grip on my sword anyway."

Finally, sunlight greeted them as they left the underground city. Felix closed his eyes, needing a few seconds to let them get used to the sudden light.

"So," Claude started again, smiling, "what's the deal between you and Yuri?"

Of course he had noted.

"Nothing that should concern you," Felix blurted out, because he had no reason to lie anyway, " I’ll deal with it if he doesn’t."

Because he wasn't one to leave things hanging, especially when he felt wronged and didn't do anything to incite it. Claude smiled at him, fondly.

"To go back to our previous conversation, I know you won't participate in the Battle, but won't you come to the Tactics meeting, later? It's still a group effort."

Felix scoffed, turning his eyes away to avoid what he knew would be an unfair puppy look. Claude knew exactly how to look too adorable to be denied and that was one hell of a curse some days.

"Some of the tactics we intend to use come from skirmishes in which you participated," his leader almost pleaded, "you know every point of view is useful. That's how we can see their shortcomings and efficiency."

"If you insist," Felix relented with a growl.

Useful. He wasn't sure how, exactly, but if it could be useful, why not...

"But," he interrupted Claude's beaming smile, "I spar with you and the professor first."

"Yeah, yeah, Teach already told me about your after class lesson. Me, however, I have chores, so it'll have to be another day. Or later that evening. Just not too late, please, you know I'd like to get back to my Abyss books."

"Another day," Felix wasn't that cruel, "don't forget it."

The professor dropped the book on his desk without any gentleness, almost making him jump.

"Study that," she said.

He looked quickly at the cover, expecting something about bows, maybe tactics if Claude had gotten to her. Instead, he was greeted by a title written in cursive, almost unreadable if not for how used he was to deciphering politician scribbles for his father (he somedays wondered who it was who did it for him nowadays...).

_'Introduction to Lightning'_

"Lysithea failed to teach me Reason magic," he grumbled, annoyed to be reminded of that failure.

"Yeah," the professor said, rolling her eyes, "because Lysithea is an expert in Dark Magic. A very rare kind. Honestly, I don't think anyone here except Hubert has a knack for it either. Anyway, despite her failure, Lysithea told me you had a lot of potential. It's just that none of her spells matched your strengths. So I've been thinking, and Lightning sounded appropriate. Which is why, here's the theory."

Felix blinked, feeling a headache starting. He hadn't even started to read the book, but just by voluminous it looked, he was pretty sure he'd end up screaming in his pillow before long.

"Don't look so panicked," she said with a small smile, "you won't study alone. I'm leaving you and Hilda a few days to skim over the first introductory chapters, and then I'll have Dorothea tutor you, she's good at Lightning magic too."

Oh by the Goddess, why these two?

Dorothea he disliked for personal reasons. The gold digger had shown barely more decency in her pursuit for noble suitors than Sylvain had for all the girls who would fall for his charms, and now, she had Ingrid's heart into her grasp. Things had been weird between him and Ingrid for a while, but he still couldn't help but feel like, sooner or later, the damn woman would realize his old friend had no money, and she'd leave her in the dust, heartbroken. He just had to remember how she had ogled at him at first, so interested in his title... It was the first time he had felt like he knew what Sylvain was going through. If he had known him pushing her away would turn her to Ingrid, so much more vulnerable than he was to emotions, he might have stopped himself. Ingrid was a big girl, he tried to remind himself, but it was still a worry, gnawing at his gut, and he hated it. But at least, he figured, she was a good mage, a good enough tutor. He should be able to keep his personal feelings aside if it was to get stronger.

Hilda, however, he didn't dislike. He just found her flabbergasting and it was annoying on its own. Being paired up with her for anything was always exhausting at best, infuriating at worst and he felt miffed everytime he had to be her partner. It was in how she always skirted around doing anything, trying her best to be as unhelpful as possible and clearly, _clearly_ refusing to have anyone rely on her. The girl was strong and had a will of steel when she decided to put in the work. The issue was, she usually didn't! If she kept like that, she'd end up a burden, which he was pretty sure wasn't actually what she wished for.

He started reading the book, morosely, mind distracted by what exactly one could do to make Hilda understand that her doing the least possible wouldn't make people stop asking her for help. He wondered if she'd accept these lessons or try to escape them too...

When class ended, he heard her telling her chores partner (a naive Raphael) that she needed to do something in class and that she'd join him quickly, promise! Quickly would probably mean once all the hard work was done, but Raphael in his infinite kindness and simplicity enabled her, laughing and telling her there was no problem. Felix didn't have the patience to scold either of them, rushing instead to the training grounds so he'd have time to warm up before the professor would join him for their sparring.

The moment he opened the doors, Dimitri's face greeted him.

Felix froze, feeling all of his defenses, which had been thrown down by the excitement of sparring against a good opponent, raising themselves up, like a perfectly fit armor of ice. His face morphed into an expression of disgust, his gut churning, all semblance of good mood evaporated.

"Oh hello Felix," Dimitri smiled at him, that fake smile of his that was both tentative and empty, "I didn't see you on the training grounds much these days, I was starting to think you had abandoned this place."

"Do not insult me, Boar." Felix spat. "As far as I know, you're the one who has been losing his grip and training less than before."

"Ah, that wasn't an insult! With all the skirmishes the Golden Deer have been participating in, recently, I simply thought you might have found that you liked real battle experience more than simple sparrings."

He didn't. That was a fact that he kept close to himself. As far as group fights went, he didn't enjoy real battle as much as spars. The worry gnawing at him when he didn't know where one of his teammates was was one of his life's biggest annoyances because no matter how much he pressed himself to _stop. caring._ his body and heart didn't seem to have found out how to do so yet.

"We're not all beasts like you, who revel in bloodshed," he sneered, "what I do with my free time is none of your concern."

Dimitri faltered for a second and Felix firmly stomped on any guilt trying to emerge inside his traitorous chest. There were no actual feelings hurt, he knew, the beast didn't have any. That wasn't Dimitri he was hurting, despite these familiar big blue eyes, it was a monster wearing his skin. It wasn't Dimitri, it wasn't Dimitri, as long as he knew that it wouldn't hurt when, inevitably, he would snap again.

"I apologize, it seems I managed to insult you again. Well then, would you care for a spar? I know I just finished up, but I've missed battling you. It's the only time when you... well, you are one of the strongest opponents I have the opportunity to face."

It was tempting, but terrifying. Because when they sparred, Felix tended to forget who was fighting him, his mind thinking for brief seconds that he was in front of a human being. Because when they sparred, there was so much restraint in the moves that he knew just one mistake would mean having a wooden lance piercing his skull, and it was familiar and used to be exhilarating. Now it was just terrifying.

"I thought I had made clear that I didn't care for the company of a beast," he said as coldly as possible, "do not try to appease me by promising me a good fight."

Dimitri sighed, shoulders hanging low, features long-suffering.

"I do realize that you find my very existence insulting," he muttered, "but I am trying. I really wish to do right by you. What do you want, Felix? I would give it to you if only I knew."

What did he want? Felix grit his teeth, thoughts and desires battling against themselves in his head as he fought the wish to blurt them all out. He wasn't pathetic enough that he would express these childish, impossible wants, for he wanted... He wanted Dimitri to stop pretending to be what he wasn't. He wanted his brother back. He wanted to be able to sleep without seeing that _monster_ ripping people to shred, laughing. He wanted Dimitri to stop showing him what he could become, because he had wanted to kill in revenge and it scared him, and he didn't want to be like that. He wanted to stop being scared, both of Dimitri and of himself. He wanted to stop feeling like the Boar was going to be his death. He wanted to not become a beast, but what else could he become when the only thing that made him feel any kind of thrills was fighting? He wanted his friend back, not a beast wearing his face...

 _For now,_ he tried to say, _I just want you to get out of my way._ His tongue was too heavy, his vision hazy.

He blinked, trying to get a grip, when a hand fell on his shoulder.

"Hey! Dimitri, my friend! I'm glad to see you here!"

Claude. Felix blinked again, wondering when, exactly, his leader had arrived. Had he seen them on his way to Abyss? No, there was supposed to be the tactics meeting first. What was he doing here?

"I was hoping I'd find you here," Claude was saying happily, "I want to study your lance technique."

"Please," Dimitri answered, and his genuinely amused eyes were making Felix sick because they looked so human and not beastly and it reminded him of someone long dead, "I know you just want to study them to make it easier for you during the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion."

"Nonsense," Claude chirped, "we already had lessons about Kingdom Lance techniques long ago. It's yours, especially, that I'd like to hear about! Would you mind? Ah, Felix..."

He turned towards him, his hand a safe pressure against the small of his back, an anchor to the present. His eyes said they'd have to talk about this sooner or later, Felix dearly hoped it'd be later. Claude’s smile, however, refused to falter.

"You should hurry inside, Teach is coming. Let's not make her wait. Anyway, as I was saying, Your Princeliness..."

Felix took the escape. Funny how often his instinct told him to run when it came to Dimitri. He wasn't in the mood to discuss it and wonder if it made him a coward. He had a sparring session to prepare.

He didn't manage to miss the desperate look Dimitri sent him, nor the pang in his chest, the furious need to apologize. He wouldn't apologize. Not to _that_. Never. His guilt needed to disappear. Quick.

The professor absolutely destroyed him.

It wasn't exactly unusual, no, but somehow it felt more violent today than it usually did.

"You're in a bad mood," she said as she sat down by his side, "why is that?"

"When am I ever in a good mood?" he grumbled as an answer.

"Believe it or not, but it's been happening more and more lately.

Felix let that wash over him, not sure how to react or even if a reaction was actually needed. He still didn't answer. Let her think he was moody about his Reason Magic homework if she needed to.

Fortunately, she didn't insist.

"On the way here, I saw Raphael doing his and Hilda's chores," she sighed instead, "Hilda had left class more than twenty minutes before. She should have been with him."

Felix snorted, not the least surprised. She swatted at him, not really annoyed but pouting more likely. Most days it wasn't that hard to remember that his professor wasn't that much older than him, really.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I might need you to do something about that, sooner or later."

"Did you say _I_ had to do something?"

"Sure."

"... What? Why?!"

It wasn't his fault Hilda was lazy! It was his fault his voice sounded like a petulant child just now and he'd need to work on it, but how dare she...

"I think you'd have the most to say to her," she said cryptically.

That didn't make any sense. Months ago, Claude had said the same thing, he remembered, he hadn't understood at the time. He sure as Ailell didn't now either.

"Well," the professor then said as if he wasn't still looking at her like she was insane, "I believe we have a tactics meeting to attend? Come with me please?"

The meeting was... too nice. He actually felt useful, sharing tidbits he knew about army habits in the kind of open fields Gronder was, there were suggestions about the hill - a coin toss had elected the Black Eagles as starting the fight with the hill in their possession, it'd make sense that Bernadetta would be manning it then - and Felix almost wondered how it would have felt to fight the battle. Almost. He had known ever since he had joined the Golden Deer that he wouldn't participate.

When the professor had told them of Manuela's injuries and Hanneman renouncing too for a matter of fair play, they had all felt... maybe a bit offended to learn that the same kind of sacrifice hadn't been asked of them. Apparently the Golden Deer hadn't won the battle since Holst Goneril, so that made for grounds to think they were starting out with a disadvantage. The class had been quietly furious but had pretty much instantly and unanimously decided to play the handicap game too. There had been jokes about being without Claude on the field, others about having Lysithea come with knight armor instead of her mage garments... Some protests and the young girl almost strangling Raphael later, Felix had growled that he wouldn't fight anyway. Since the Lions had lost someone, it only made it fairer. And they had looked at him, surprised by his suggestion, all clearly expecting him to, on the contrary, fight for a place in the battle.

All but Claude, who had quietly looked relieved. Felix had rolled his eyes he remembered. His leader really wasn't as secretive with his feelings as he liked to think himself.

" _How did you know I disliked the idea of making you fight them?_ " he had asked during a sparring session later.

" _You don't want me to feel any conflicting loyalties,_ " Felix had answered, " _it's obvious. You already have a hard time trusting people, how can you trust someone who might feel uncomfortable with fighting your enemies?_ "

" _Are you?_ ”

" _What?_ "

_"Uncomfortable. Do you dislike the idea of fighting them?"_

Claude had always been too smart for his own good. The idea of fighting the Black Eagles was enough to make Felix slightly regret forfeiting his place in the battle, some days. The idea of fighting the Blue Lions on something too akin to a battlefield, though, was unbearable. He knew very well it was just a mock-battle, all in good fun. But Felix had been in too many real battles to be sure he'd remember, surrounded by opponents, that it _was_ just a mock-battle.

And finding himself on the wrong side of Dimitri's lance was nothing short of a nightmare. Without exaggeration. How many times had he woken up whimpering pitifully after a dream where the Boar that had replaced his friend skewered him, laughing maniacally?

A small pressure on his back distracted him from his dark thoughts. The meeting was wrapping up, everyone cheering each other and applauding for time well spent. The pressure on his back disappeared, fluttering like a butterfly, and Felix didn't have to check to know it was Yuri. At his side, the lavender-haired ruffian was talking to Leonie, eyes pointedly fixated on her rather than him. Ignoring him again, but not enough not to notice when he was retreating inside himself. Felix scowled but didn’t do anything. There would be time for that conversation later.

"That will be all," professor Eisner said, "now I know it's pretty late and that some of you have hobbies, so I'm sorry for keeping you all this time."

Hilda moaned playfully, as if it was a dramatic end of the world, while Marianne hurriedly reassured the professor that there was no problem and she didn't have hobbies really and that was both sad and false, how else should one call the time she spent with the horses? Anyway, the professor didn't listen to any of them.

"What I mean is that you children need to sleep. You get your dinner and then it's bedroom time."

There were a few exclamations of protest, but mostly, the students nodded, agreeing that it probably was for the best. It really was late, Felix thought, mourning his dusk training sessions, but she worried for no reason, no one would really want to...

Oh, right.

The professor caught Claude as he was leaving the classroom.

"Felix," she said as the leader sputtered, "you're on Claude watch duty. You make sure he _doesn't_ go spend the night somewhere he won't sleep. He goes to his room, and he stays there."

"Am I allowed to use force?"

"Of course."

"Hey!"

Yuri's laughter could be heard, not that far, making Claude pout. Felix pushed him lightly to make him move.

"Yuri'll make sure your books are safe, now move."

"I take back everything nice I ever said about you, you're an evil man."

"Sure. And the evil man is taking you to get dinner."

As it turned out, tonight's dinner held far too many vegetables. Felix remembered staring at it in disgust, Claude smirking and eating happily on the side, as if he was getting some kind of revenge. Felix might have kicked him in the shin. Once or twice. Claude ate fast. It was some kind of game, were he to finish his plate quickly enough, surely he could have escaped Felix's surveillance and rushed out of the dining hall. Too bad for him, Felix knew very well about that kind of technique, he had used it on Glenn many times after all.

It had failed every single time for one simple reason.

The moment Claude rose up, thanking the chefs loudly for the meal, Felix caught his arm. And kept eating that disgusting vegetable dish, slowly. He glared once at his leader, making sure he wouldn't try to escape to Abyss.

"Don't try it," he said in a low voice, "I swear I'll manhandle you there myself if I have to."

"I'd like to see that," Claude snorted, banking on his wish not to attract attention, surely.

Too bad for him, Felix never minded attracting a bit of attention if it was to win a game.

He also was pretty strong, if he said so himself. So it was relatively easy to throw the young man over his shoulder like a potato sack. Claude squawked in surprise and Felix walked without slowing down. He wasn't that heavy, a bit taller than Felix, sure, that was the small problem, but he should be able to do it easily anyway. The stairs to the dorm weren't that far from the dining hall after all.

There was laughing alongside them as he walked, Claude's protests falling into deaf ears. Hilda whistled while Raphael whooped, screaming something like "show off these muscles, man!". Lysithea's silent smirk was louder than anything except maybe Marianne's light, surprised laughter. Lorenz might have looked a bit too satisfied, and Claude might have to regain a bit of dignity tomorrow. Well too bad for him, he didn't have to provoke Felix after all. Ignatz looked a bit worried though, rising and hesitantly telling him to mind the stairs.

"I'm not an amateur, thanks," he answered dryly.

"I got the message!" Claude was saying, though not whining, not yet. "You can put me down."

"Right."

He didn't put him down. He went down the stairs that led to the pond and kept going towards the dorms with that not-that-heavy-but-annoying package he was carrying. Seeing that it wasn't enough to change his mind, Claude started fidgeting.

"Keep that up and I'll hit you."

"Where? On my butt?"

"Do not tempt me. I'll treat you like a toddler if that's what you want."

Claude smothered a laugh against his shoulder, proof that he wasn't taking all of this that badly.

"A toddler wasn't what I had in mind. Anyway, seriously, you won, I'll go to my room, can you let me down, now?"

"Professor told me to make sure you go to your room, I am taking you to your room. Now mind your legs, we're going up."

"Seriously? You can't expect to go up the stairs like that!"

He could and he would, actually. He started on the first step.

"No," Claude said, more serious, "I'm not joking. You're not carrying me up that way, it's an accident waiting to happen. Get me down, I swear I'll follow you to my room. Yours is next door, you can make sure I do that!"

It didn't sound as fun. But fine. The stairs were indeed far from the safest place here.

"I could have done it," he grumbled as he finally let his leader down, "you're not that heavy."

"And you're freakishly strong," Claude retorted as he found his footing again, "between you and Hilda, why am I surrounded by forces of nature?"

"Hilda?"

"Bridal carried Raphael as a dare. His height was a bit of a problem, but that’s it."

Huh.

Well he kind of wished he had seen that. And been able to participate. How heavy could the big guy be, really?

His musings were interrupted by a sound, deeply unwelcome, that stopped him in his tracks the moment they reached Claude's room. By his side, he felt the other man stiffen and look at him, a worried glance.

A moan.

It had been a pretty heavy and feminine moan, the kind that reeked of sexual pleasure. And it was coming from Sylvain's room. Of course.

A pang of a pain he was used to stung inside his chest and he crossed his arms with a huff.

"So!" Claude exclaimed. "Now that you're here, want to get in so we can discuss what I found out last night? We did promise, right? Also I still have a story about my wyvern that I promised to tell you."

They did, even if Felix knew his only job would be to sit here and grunt in agreement when needed. He rolled his eyes. That'd beat being alone in his own room, closer to the noise, listening to his friend having sex and stabbing his heart with a teaspoon.

"Sure, if you insist."

Claude smiled, a little, sad, but sincere thing. And then he opened the door.

There were books everywhere. Felix squinted, wondering if it was even possible to walk into the room without stepping on one of the precious library possessions. Nothing was spared, especially not the bed that was almost invisible underneath the blanket of hard covers and notebooks that came from the Goddess knew where.

"Claude von Riegan," he said slowly, "how the fuck do you sleep in that bed?"

Claude dragged a chair for him to sit on, miraculously avoiding all books while doing so. He blinked, his dazzling smile ever present. It had never worked on Felix and wouldn't start today.

"I kind of don't." he laughed.

"Right. I wonder why I asked."

Sylvain would have had a heart attack, he couldn't help but think, stepping aside and scowling at the book-covered ground.

"Are you trying to train your balance?"

"What?" Claude already had his head in one of the books he was moving.

This was a bad idea. Maybe he should have just said no. Maybe it was still time?

The moment he turned back towards the door, there was more moaning, even louder than before. He closed the door with a shaky hand.

"Khalid," he hissed.

Claude dropped the book, face stricken.

"Right!" he said louder than he really needed to be. "So where do I start? The books in Abyss or my wyvern? Have I already talked to you about my wyvern?"

"I know you have one," Felix mumbled, relieved at how muted the moans he could still hear were, "did you manage to take her with you?"

"Yes! Well you see, she's still young so I couldn't bring her here, at the academy, I had to trust someone with her for the time being, but when I get back from here, she'll be just at the right age for me to break her in..." he wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Have I ever said how much I hate that we use that word? Break... Anyway, I should be able to ride her soon and make sure we are a good team. I've always been pretty good when it comes to taming beasts, my father loves taking me to the pen where they hold the most feral ones. I have most of them eating out of my hand in a few days!"

As it often did when someone mentioned beasts, like a dark reflex, Dimitri's face came to mind, something Felix wasn't really sure he should think about. As soon as he remembered his stupid and enormous blue eyes, his voice, deep and sad and aggravated, argued into his ear, a question he really didn't want to answer. _What do you want, Felix?_

Another moan, loud enough to go through the door. Claude raised his voice but Felix wasn’t listening anymore. What (Who) did he want? Outside of a good sparring partner, nothing he could have.

Claude kept talking, changing subjects a few times, discussing the most innocuous gossip he heard from Hilda and then random ideas that would have made most nobles Felix knew choke and turn purple. He listened blandly, barely interjecting.

He didn't remember when he ended up dozing off with his face on Claude's desk.

**19th day of the Wyvern Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

Last skirmish had been, well, not a disaster, it had actually gone pretty well. Which was why the professor's injury was a mystery. She had apparently sprained her leg but kept going without care until it broke, and hid it long enough that even fixing it with Faith magic wasn't a complete heal. Marianne had been almost crying and panicking, and once they were home, Manuela had had a few choice words about taking care of yourself. She had looked suspicious, as if expecting foul play. The professor had looked deeply neutral, maybe too much, as if to fake how contrite she was. Felix thought that Manuela was probably right.

"Harming yourself is dumb," he scolded her when they left the infirmary along with Claude, "did you do that for some stupid matter of fairness?"

"I didn't harm myself," the professor said lightly, "I was just negligent with my health. I think my father will tell you that I have a long history of doing so."

Somehow he didn't doubt it. It didn't stop Claude from snorting, laughter escaping his lips.

"Never let it be said that you're not a shrewd woman. But seriously, you're lucky it's nothing serious and just two weeks of forced rest."

Two weeks without sparring with her, Felix thought, scowling. What a selfish decision she had made. Her features turned serious, less neutral.

"I know. And I would never have let it get that bad if I thought the consequences could have been dire."

"I sense a 'but', Teach."

"But," she said, cold but strangely passionate, "no one expects you guys to win."

Claude pouted and opened his mouth, ready to protest that he didn't care about gossip (which was wrong, he cared, very much so) when she lifted her eyes to him.

"I've heard it all," she seethed quietly, "about how if you manage to scrap the win it'll be only because you'll be the only ones with a professor to help you coordinate your attacks. About how the only way the Golden Deer have ever won was by crippling the competition, about how the class lacks prestige and how its students aren't noble or diligent enough to fight well. So many disparaging comments, all targeted at you, my students, and that's without going into the personal attacks, I'll spare you that, you hear them enough. But it has made me... angry. Oh, so, angry. To hear _my students_ disrespected like that."

She caught Claude's flabbergasted hands and nodded at Felix, behind him.

"You guys are going to win," she promised, "and it's going to be a win that no one can contest. You hear me?"

Who wouldn't be enthused after such a declaration? Claude smiled and Felix almost felt his own lips twitch up.

"You better not mess up after such a speech," he said.

"No pressure," Claude laughed, "but yeah, I promise. We won't let you down, Teach. Now, however, if you could have found _any_ way other than an injury..."

All the Golden Deer didn't take the news as well as Claude. While Leonie promised she'd do the professor and Jeralt proud, Lorenz looked annoyed at having to obey Claude's orders exclusively while on the battlefield. Lysithea squared up, promising to do her best, Raphael was unfazed, as he was by most things, but Ignatz and Marianne looked right about to panic. And Hilda, well...

"I've been asked to find a replacement to fill the ranks," the professor explained, "so you'll have Yuri on the field to help you. But as he wasn't part of our plans before, don't adapt to him, he'll adapt to you."

"But professor," Hilda squeaked, "we can't do it without you! You're a front line fighter, we need you."

"You'll replace me perfectly, Hilda. I had already told you that you wouldn't need to stay behind as there are no reasons to expect reinforcements."

"I wanted a logistics position," the young woman mumbled.

The professor pretended not to hear her as she started the lesson, saying she'd explain the changes of plan during their tactics meeting, tonight. It would be nothing much, really, they hadn't planned anything around her either, mostly expecting her to look at the field and make her own decisions, plan or no plan. Felix was starting to suspect she had already decided to find a way not to participate when their tactics meetings had started.

The moment class was over, Hilda excused herself quietly and left as if she were fleeing, hardly hiding the annoyance in her voice behind a smile. Claude groaned and the professor sighed. Together, at the very same time, they turned. Towards Felix. Their gazes were expectant, almost pleading and he didn't understand it. That again? What did they want from him?

He opened his mouth to protest. He had chores before their tactics meeting after all...

Wait.

No he didn't. Not this week, strangely. Had they planned this?

He glared at them both and rose up.

"You owe me," he mouthed at them. And he wasn't promising any results.

He left the classroom too and went in search of the pink-haired girl.

Finding her took far too much time. She had gone near the cemetary, where she was sweetly and obviously flirting with another student, a young man who couldn't seem to look at her eyes, much more busy with what was going on beneath. The way she was speaking, she was clearly extorting a favour from his lust-muddled brain.

Felix felt... irate. Yes, that probably was the word. It was cold, somehow, but some kind of deep anger that was more directed at himself than the girl he was stomping towards. Hilda saw him coming from the side and squawked a bit, shaken from the avid conversation she was having.

"You," he hissed, "training grounds, now."

"Eeeh? But why?" she whined.

"Teacher's orders."

No one discussed the teacher's orders, which was probably why she closed her mouth, apologized to her dear love slave and followed him, only slightly dragging her feet.

"Why does the professor want us to train at such an hour," she complained loudly as soon as they had entered the grounds, "that's completely out of the usual class hours, I don't get it! Only workaholics like you would be there! And we even have the meeting soon!"

Felix ignored her, throwing a wooden sword at her feet. Indeed the training grounds were empty. Which was probably best. He didn't know why they all felt like he was the best for that. He wasn't good with feelings, he had no idea why she wouldn't even try, he was just annoyed enough with her laziness to agree to try something without complaining too much about it.

"I don't do swords, Felix."

"Then take a Seiros-damned axe." he growled, choosing his own weapon among the wooden swords in the crates holding them.

He heard muddled grumbling as the young lady picked up a weapon. They took to the grounds, two unhappy faces in a deserted place, neither of them really wanting to be here. Hilda went back to her usual cutesy smile when she got into position.

"Go easy on me, okay? I'm not that good, you know."

"I'll go at the level I believe you to be," he answered dryly.

Her scowl came back immediately. He didn't give her time to argue and attacked first.

Hilda was good.

Not good, she was excellent.

And that was why, despite the lack of warning and how little effort she clearly wanted to spend on that fight, she dodged him easily, coming back at him with a horizontal slice that he was far too close to avoid easily. He had to guard. Immediately.

Felix was usually the one on the offensive. Most of the time, if he had to guard, he had already lost. That was how Dimitri had defeated him more than once.

Hilda, lazy Hilda, forced him to guard after less than two seconds of combat. It was infuriating to know just how extraordinary she could be. Yet, with the way she was thinning her lips, she seemed about to throw the match.

"Don't you dare," he said, "you'd better give it all you've got. I'll know."

She pushed back. There was a small, awkward moment, when he had a humbling yet awful realization.

Hilda, with her small, thin noodle arms that were capable of bridal carrying Raphael, was stronger than him.

The moment she pushed back, there was no way he could hold on. Swearing silently, he disengaged, ready to attack from another point.

She matched him.

Blow for blow. For long, long minutes. Sometimes one of them hit, most times they would just oppose her strength and his agility.

Somehow, he ended up on the ground first. Rolling on his side before she could force him to yield, he rose, aiming for the handle.

The axe flew from her hand and he held his sword, firm, against her throat. She looked at him, frustration clear on her face before she smoothed it over, going for her usual girlish smile. He stopped her with a glare.

"You," he hissed, "were amazing."

It sounded like an insult. And maybe it was. He jabbed the end of the sword at her shoulder.

"You are one of the strongest opponents I've ever fought," he kept going with cold fury, "and you're not even trying."

The frustration on her face when he held her at swordpoint. Maybe she had been trying, for a bit. She had wanted to win just a second. And she was looking at him, blinking like an owl, but he could still see how aggravated she was.

"I'm not good," she denied.

"No, indeed, you're much better than good. And you're wasting it! Why come here if you didn't intend to fight?!"

"I didn't have a choice, I was forced to go!"

"And so you intend to waste your time for what?! Petty revenge?"

"You don't get it, I CAN'T be good!"

She pushed him away and damn her strength, she actually threw him to the ground this time. He bit his tongue, tried to rise, but she went down, forcing him on the ground, baring her teeth and seething.

"I can’t! You hear me?! Because if I am good, then _people will expect me to be good_!"

Time seemed to stop. She was breathing heavily, eyes wild. There was more vulnerability in that anger than there ever was in her carefully constructed fragile appearance. He snarled, hating how he literally could not get up.

"And why, exactly, is people expecting you to fight well a problem?"

"Because," she hissed in return, "I don't want to have to meet anyone's expectations."

"Then don't! Meet your own and no one else's! Who cares what others think!"

She laughed. An ugly, bitter sound.

"Oh, it's so easy for you, isn't it? You don't care what people think of you."

She stopped suddenly, looking at him, squinting as if noticing something for the very first time.

"Or maybe you do know what it's like," she mumbled.

Slowly, she rose up, letting him breathe again. She crouched as he sat, staring at him with intent.

"After all," she said slowly, "you would know about perfect big brothers, wouldn't you."

It was like an ice bucket had been thrown at him. He whipped his head towards her, not sure what he was feeling exactly, but knowing that all of it was negative, and a familiar cold anger sat inside his gut.

"Don't you dare..." he started again.

"Dare what? Point out that everyone sees Glenn Fraldarius as perfection that could never be matched?"

There was no judgement in her voice, which was probably the main reason he didn't try to rip her throat off the moment she spoke.

"I won't judge. I never met the man. But if he was anywhere near my own, I definitely understand the praise."

Holst Goneril was a legend. Even up north in Fraldarius and Gautier, tales of his battle prowesses reached ears. He seemed more story than man, by this point.

And perhaps she had a point. Because while he knew, technically, that she was his sister, it was maybe the first time that it hit him that she was _his_ sister. The legend's sister. Very much real and clearly, clearly feeling like her phenomenal axe handling wasn't up to par and that it was better this way.

Because what would ever come close to the legend himself.

Felix swallowed back his bitterness, remembering having to fight against a living brother's greatness and pitting it against fighting a dead one's. Dead had been worse, by far, but that didn’t mean it had been easy before either.

"You can catch up to Holst one day," he said.

Where was the bite. He wanted bite in his words. Where was it.

Why did he feel so tired right now?

"I don't want to," she answered, "because even perfect big brothers can't be perfect all the time."

She let out a shuddering breath.

"Every single little time Holst has disappointed anyone, it nearly destroyed him. I can't. I can't do the same."

"Then don't."

He knew it wasn't that easy, probably more than anyone. But it was the only thing he knew could work.

"Is that what you did? Stop caring about what others think of you?"

"He's dead," he answered with finality, "there's nothing I can do that won't be compared to him. And I’ll lose every time."

There was no pity in her gaze, just slow understanding.

"He annoys me to no end, but I've always been scared of losing him," she admitted, "it's frustrating to know that there's nothing I can do for him except... being there, I guess. I won't be better than him, anyway, so getting stronger to protect him is useless."

Holst and Hilda Goneril probably had a really different relationship than Felix once had with Glenn. Somehow he felt like between them, there were probably no barbed comments thrown as terms of endearments or threats of eaten breakfast if Hilda didn't get out of bed right now.

That didn't make his chest ache any less.

"Do it for you."

"Is that what you did?"

"Yes."

Because of all the promises neither of them could keep, he somewhat still was hung on the one that had given purpose to his life. Because what else could he do? What else could he be?

Hilda bit her lip.

"Fine," she mumbled, "I'll try. No promises, though. I still hate battle."

"That's all the professor asked."

At least he supposed. No one had told him what they expected, really, so how could he live up to it? Maybe that was why they hadn’t said anything. They just wanted him to try, too. The results wouldn’t matter as much as him trying...

Hilda rose up and held up her hand. He took it, letting her freakishly strong grip help him to his feet. Weirdly, he didn't feel the strength to refuse the help, as he would usually have done.

What were these deers doing to him?

The meeting had already started when they arrived. Everyone was talking at the same time, probably going nowhere fast and losing track of actual important things. Probably their way of spending time while they waited for them. Almost automatically, Felix's eyes were drawn to Yuri, standing in the corner of the room, looking at them with that indulgent big-brotherly look he seemed to favour the deers with. He barely moved when Raphael exclaimed, seeing them at the classroom's door.

Right. They still hadn't talked.

While it wasn't as bad at Sylvain's, Felix could have done without Yuri's love of flirting. He endured, though, as sparring with someone who liked riling you up was, indeed, good training. Yuri was great with a sword, used magic, was fast and didn't hesitate to fight dirty. There was a reason he had become Felix’s favored sparring partner after the professor that quickly after all.

That didn't mean that strangling him everytime he opened his mouth wasn't something he kind of fantasized about at times. Especially when it was that breathy and fond "Stray Cat" that Hapi had used once and that he seemed to have completely adopted.

But when he started ignoring him, the ex Ashen Wolf had not just stopped all flirty comments. His sword wasn't as sharp as usual and his eyes tended to glaze over him when they weren't fighting, as if he was seeing someone else when he was watching him.

Felix hated that. He already had enough of this with the Boar and sometimes Ingrid. A small voice in his head, sounding annoyingly like his own, liked reminding him of how he'd always be second to Glenn, that even dead, his beloved brother was more important than he'd ever be, that he could never surpass him in any way.

"Felix!"

Claude was waving at him. His bright green eyes were guarded as always, but there was none of that glazing over.

"There you are, we could use your insight on the enemy."

And a wink. Felix rolled his eyes and exhaled. Claude didn't mean that, anyway, he was just trying to have him participate. He didn’t mind that too much if he had to be honest. It was a bit annoying, sometimes, but worth the reassurance that everytime Claude looked at him, it was him he saw, and no one else.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Claude, if I may," Yuri's smooth voice was low, "you already have enough intel. Can I borrow Felix one minute?"

"Haven't the two of you sparred enough, recently?"

No. They hadn’t at all. Claude's voice was sunny as always, but there was an edge in it. Not worry exactly, but wariness. Felix didn't turn. Whatever was on Yuri's face that it made Claude's eyes so guarded, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He could almost hear Yuri's tentative smile.

"I need to fess up to something. Nothing you should worry about."

Nothing Claude should worry about. Indeed. Felix exhaled quietly, trying not to show how much his stomach was knotting over itself. He wasn't dumb. He had known there was something wrong. He had known and he hated it the moment he had realized what was the issue, probably… no, definitely. He wanted to throttle Yuri more often than he wanted to spar with him, but somehow, he didn't dislike their relationship.

Every single one of his relationships had been soured by resentment, anger and the simple refusal to admit that anything was wrong. He didn't want his relationship with Yuri to change. Why had it been doomed from the start?

He exhaled more loudly this time and followed the young crook away from the rest of their classmates.

"So you’re going to replace the professor?"

Felix was never the one to start a conversation. Yet, somehow, if it could stave off the ghost he knew had to weigh over their future conversation... Yuri laughed, hardly masking his own unease.

"Kind of, I'm more of a wildcard. Claude will fill me in later, but I'm supposed to simply do my own thing anyway."

Always alone on the battlefield. That was Yuri. Somehow, that was much more Yuri than Felix. These damn deers had made him more social, who would have guessed? He had gotten used to pairing up with at least one of them on the battlefield. But Yuri? Yuri was always on his own.

"I apologize in advance, what I'm about to tell you probably won't make you happy."

Nothing surprising there. Felix just raised an eyebrow. Yuri gave him this small charming smile of his, that was both bemused and fond, eyes still avoiding his.

"Ah. I figure you probably guessed the most of it. You know a few details about me, don’t you?"

Yuri Leclair, ward and adopted son of count Rowe. Left the house as soon as he could, but somehow still counted as its member. No doubt the count wanted the prestige of having a unique crest counting among his house, even if said crest bearer was an underground lord

"I don't care who you are."

Only that he could trust him on the battlefield, and that outside of it, he would see him and no one else. He cared about his company, yes, but how much of it had been perverted by some desire he hadn’t even realized?

Yuri had a small laugh, almost self-deprecating.

"Right. Let’s cut the chase. When count Rowe adopted me, there was not much ceremony, but a lot of paperworks. It included the signature of more than one lord. Usually, the neighbouring lords would have come, but at the time, lord Lonato of Gaspard had himself just adopted a few children. I couldn't give you the exact details, but anyway, a representative of lord Fraldarius ended up having to come and legitimize my adoption."

Yuri hesitated and Felix almost wanted to close his eyes, knowing exactly what he was about to say.

"That was how I met your brother."

So there it was. Yuri raised a hand, a peaceful gesture and Felix hated more than anything that he felt like he needed to be appeased. He wanted to lash out and tell him not to baby him. But Yuri simply kept. talking.

"I don’t need to tell you much more, I believe. You already get enough people reminding you that your brother was... well... basically the fairy tale knight every Faerghus youngster dreams of being."

A fairy tale knight who died so gruesomely they couldn't bring back his body. Even at fourteen, Felix knew what it meant when his bent armor and his sword were the only things that were able to make it home. He didn't need Dimitri's haunted eyes to guess that it couldn't have been pretty. And yet... for some people, it was the best way he could have gone. And they said it like it was a comfort. Felix grit his teeth. He already wanted that conversation over. Yuri noticed of course.

"Calm down, Stray Cat. I just needed to explain. After all, I have been avoiding you for a while, I know you noticed that. I guess it's just weird to know who you are, now, when I mostly heard about you as a small child. I figure... I was trying to reconcile my old vision of you and the you I know."

There was clearly some truth about what Yuri is saying. But he knew that was not all of it. It wasn’t just trying to make sense of how Felix was as a kid compared to now. It was seeking, trying to find out how much of Glenn he had in him. Just like they all did, without even intending to.

Yuri apparently didn't know how much Glenn liked talking about his 'friend' from Rowe, about his wit and his talent with a sword, about how he was beautiful and smart and deadly. He probably didn't know how Glenn always tried to make sure he'd be the one sent to Rowe everytime it was necessary, or how he comforted a jealous Felix who felt like this _friend_ was stealing his brother away.

Friend. Right. The grief in Yuri's eyes, right now, was enough to remind Felix of that one and only time he wondered if anyone had told Glenn's "Rowe friend" about his death and given him the same callous and unnecessary condoleances he'd himself gotten.

So there they were. With Yuri fessing up to the truth of Felix having been found lacking, as always. Unable to replace a brother who had left holes in so many hearts despite so many people wanting him to.

"Let's stop there," he said drily.

Yuri nodded, looking dismayed by his reaction, but not surprised. He tried a small, sad smile.

"I see. I’m sorry, then. Just know that... while his talent with a spear was unparalleled, when it comes to the sword? You're much better than he ever was."

And then he left, looking pained. As if these weren't words Felix had wished to hear almost his whole life. And yet, when he thought about it, it didn’t feel good. It hurt, actually. More than he expected, to be honest. Hearing Glenn's name was still painful most of the time, being compared to him one way or another even more so. Thinking about how, in a few months, he’d be as old as his brother was when he had died, left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

The comparison hadn't even been deprecating this time, really. A compliment more than anything else, from someone who knew what he was talking about. So why did it hurt that much? Had it been because it had been a while? Had it simply been because he just wanted it to _stop_? Stop comparing them like they were different versions of the same person, stop thinking of them as an original and its replacement. Just… stop reminding him of the shadow he kept chasing, as if it was the only thing he could do in his life (because that was what he was doing, wasn’t it? Chasing after a dead man he could never defeat, because Glenn had been stronger and better and more loved and just _more_ than anything Felix could ever be.)

Did it use to sting so harshly before too?

If so, why had he stayed inside that hurt for so long?

Felix bit his lip, miserable. It might be him, he thought with shame, who would avoid Yuri, now.

**27th day of the Wyvern Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

The Golden Deer won the battle.

Of course they did, their tactics were terribly flawed in a way that Felix knew Claude wouldn't have dared using during a real battle, but it were these flaws that allowed them for creativity, surprising their opponents again and again.

The strategy had been simple, a strong fighter, able to dish out and take as much as possible, was supposed to reach the hill and stand on it, stopping the tide of the battle right in the middle of the field. As their fighter did that, small groups surprised the enemy with flank attacks.

Hilda finished the battle covered in bruises, but still standing atop the hill. Even from where he had been watching, Felix could see the savage smirk on her face, satisfied to have bested so many opponents. He felt weird, something warm beneath just a tinge of envy. He too wished to have been that warrior somehow, that indestructible wall of power that led his class to victory, yes. But there was already something pleasant about seeing _Hilda_ do such a job. Small Hilda with her pigtails and torn uniform dress. She looked glorious. He wondered if she'd have given her all too, without their sparring session, the one that had laid everything bare.

Was that what pride in someone else felt like? What a weird feeling.

"Your classmates did well." Seteth's voice made him jump. "It was quite the impressive win."

"They were decent."

The man chuckled and in front of him, Felix could see the professor give him a very loud stare. How kind of them to remind him that he wasn't fooling anyone.

Seteth had kept him a seat alongside the professor's. He hadn't understood at the time, why exactly he was reserved such an honour as staying in the Archbishop's company. But the green-haired man had softly smiled. " _Please_ ", he had said, " _I see you as a friend, I'd like your company._ " Felix had been too flustered to refuse.

He still didn't understand it. What was such an influential man, a leader of the Church, doing, showing him such preferential treatment? The first time he had called him friend, despite Felix's rantings about chivalry, he had thought it a joke. But not only was it sincere, it was _because_ of his views?

Felix wasn't used to people trusting him because he hated what so many people saw as normal. That was still weird. Why wasn't he being pushed away as he usually was after such words? He didn't understand, he really didn't.

It was also humbling. How could he say no? He wasn't _that_ rude.

"The Blue Lions did well too," the professor said lightly, "they defeated a lot of the Black Eagles by themselves before being taken out."

Claude had managed to get Dimitri. Felix had expected them to have Lysithea try something, but it seemed like he had taken the professor's wish to have them get a complete victory seriously. He had defeated Dimitri in singular combat, using his agility and the environment to gain an edge, and he had won.

Dimitri had been escorted away from the field smiling, a gracious loser through and through. Felix had looked at that, feeling strangely uncomfortable, before choosing not to dwell on things he didn't understand.

"Brother!" A voice called, and Seteth's face brightened.

Flayn was rushing towards them, her face flushed. She had been authorized to join the battle, despite Seteth's fretting, but she had been taken out quite early. The injuries she had sustained while kidnapped by Jeritza had made the healers very worried about her, the moment she had looked weakened she had been asked to leave in case they reopened.

"Brother we won!" she screamed. "Did you see that? Did you see?!"

Her joy was contagious. Lady Rhea actually chuckled at that, a hand on her heart. The knights of Seiros were cheering and applauding too, Catherine elbowing Shamir, joking about something he couldn't hear. Shamir rolled her eyes and elbowed her back. He wished he could enjoy the good mood, but all of this was becoming too much for his ears.

Among the noise, the professor stood, collected, and smiled at him.

"Should we join the heroes of today?"

Sure. They couldn't be as noisy as the knights currently were.

Claude was speaking with Dimitri and Edelgard. Asking for a feast, something to celebrate. It wasn't even a winner bragging in front of his opponents, his eyes were sincerely shining. That man's love of feasts would empty the Alliance's treasury, Felix felt. But today it'd at least only be the Monastery's coffers that'd suffer a bit. At least, it would be a sweet consolation for Ingrid.

He let a few of his classmates embrace him, usually just for a second before they moved on to the next person to hug. Annoying, once again, but strangely bearable. Lysithea squeaked in happiness as she threw herself at him, before rushing back to their leader. The professor called them, telling them to start walking. They had a long way back to the monastery after all.

"What is it I hear about a feast?" the young girl was screaming at Claude. "do we get to choose what we're eating?"

"Sure, as long as we don't ask too much of the cooks!"

"If it's a feast," she claimed, "there must be cake!"

"Cake is great!" Raphael added from afar with his usual booming voice.

Claude wrinkled his nose in a way that showed that he seemed to disagree.

"Not just cake," he whined, looking for help around him, "what is it with you and sweets? If it's a feast, we need all types of food, but mostly, we need meat! And spices!"

Felix raised his head almost instinctively.

Meat? Spices? Was Claude von Riegan a man after his own heart? If he did manage to get them food that wasn't unbearably sweet, Felix was ready to... well maybe not go easy on him, but not critique him as harshly as he usually would during a sparring session.

"Meat is great too," Raphael added with a laugh, "we need a bit of everything!"

"Well we can't have everything!" Lysithea retorted, looking around. "Von Aegir!" she yelled. "We need your input!"

Ferdinand Von Aegir, currently happily talking with Dorothea Arnault, started and joined them with a smile, congratulating them for their victory, swearing he'd get them for the next tournament, and many other platitudes that somehow didn't feel like platitudes when it was him telling them. His help when saving Flayn had been invaluable, but, as Felix mentally recounted all the times they had eaten together (which weren't much, granted), he was a man who seemed as fond of sweet buns as he was of Daphnel stew.

Felix would never forgive him if he chose his love for sweets before his love for meat.

After a few minutes of noisy conversation and Felix glaring heavily at Ferdinand anytime he seemed to believe sugar would be a good idea, he, Lysithea and Claude agreed on one and only one thing.

Pheasant Roast with Berry Sauce. _Optional_ berry sauce, Claude and Ferdinand had added when Felix's murderous eyes had maybe been a little too deadly.

"You've been very silent."

His eyes found Marianne, walking at his side. The demure girl was staring at the ground, but her cheeks were flushed and her lips were smiling softly. Happiness was radiating off her, something rare enough that it deserved to be noticed.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked.

Was there something wrong?

Not really, no. Marching ahead, Raphael was carrying a giggling Hilda on his shoulders, Ignatz and Lorenz were covering her in compliments while Leonie chanted some song about some warlord leaving his tent and turning the tide, Yuri chuckling at them, content. Claude was still chatting with Lysithea and Ferdinand, playfully arguing as the professor looked on with amusement. Up ahead, Flayn was skipping alongside Seteth's steps. The Blue Lions looked a bit more somber, but the disappointment was counterbalanced by Dimitri's strange cheer, Mercedes was comforting a disappointed Annette, Sylvain was teasing Ashe and Ingrid's eyes had just lightened up, likely she had just heard about the feast. Dedue didn’t seem to care much, but clearly, as long as his master didn’t see anything wrong with their loss, he wouldn’t either.

Nothing was wrong, and he didn't feel anything wrong.

When was the last time everyone around him had felt so content and joyful? There was no reason to ruin that occasion, was there?

"I'm fine," he said finally.

"If you say so," Marianne said with her soft smile, "I wish you could have fought with us."

He did too, despite everything. How many other times would he get the occasion to fight alongside them without worrying for their lives? Half the year was already past. Despite himself, dread started piling up in his throat.

What would he do when he'd have to leave them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have quite a few funfacts to share about this chapter. The first one is that it holds the very first iteration of the world "fuck" in the fic x) And it's Claude's bedroom that gets that honour! I gave up on my self-imposed challenge here and there and started using it more regularly afterwards. The second one is that this was the last chapter I had written a draft of when I started posting this fic!  
> Now about the chapter itself! Let's go in order of events! So first, the scene with Claude. There's just something honestly endearing when it comes to writing Felix simply being a kid! I enjoy having him act a bit immature in light-hearted scenes, it makes me feel better about all the shit I make him go through ;; More seriously I like reminding myself that despite his amount of issues and traumas, he's still seventeen and not so above it all!  
> The part with Byleth injuring herself was me being incredibly salty that we can't bench Byleth during that fight :/ Seriously, it's so unfair for the other houses! And she's already overleveled as it is!  
> Then, Hilda! Let's forego the obvious big brother connection and talk about why I had her be stronger than Felix. That's simply a relic of my very first playthgouh (a GD run) where I recruited Felix pretty late into the game and so she was stronger than he was when I got him. It didn't last, of course, the Felixnator woke up pretty quickly (still can't believe he has the third highest Strength stat in the game after Dimitri and Edelgard, like, damn!), but it was a fun memory!  
> There's also probably a lot to say about Felix and Yuri's scene here, but since we're far from being done with that storyline, I have a hard time speaking about it without spoiling it xD So all I'll say is that yes, the crack ship I was mentioning that I ended up far too invested in was Glenn and Yuri!  
> Finally, Felix and Seteth's very small moment. I know I already mentioned how much I love their support chain, but since I don't get to have them interact much in the story, I wanted that little mention!  
> Now, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and will enjoy the last days of December! Thank you so much for your support <3


	18. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judai faces his first battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year!! I figured since I had time, I could finish up the year by posting one more chapter! It's the 30th and the 31th of the Lone Moon, which means the last days of the year in Fodlan too despite it being more like March, so I figured it was appropriate!  
> In any case, we get to see Judai training a bit for dancing. While I headcanon him as a mortal savant, I figured having a more passive style of fighting would probably suit him better in the context of that particular fic! So here he is. And then I remembered he'd be wearing Felix's outfit instead of one made for him... I might need to try to draw him in that just to picture it, huh...

**Chapter 17**

_We must be strong_

_And we must be brave_

_We gotta find every bit of strength_

_That we have and never let it go_

**30th day of the Lone Moon, Imperial Year 1185**

**Judai**

"Not so fast," Judai smirked, "I still have my silver. And when I put it here... Well I think you're surrounded!"

"Cethleann's tits, _again_?"

Sylvain's exclamation attracted some attention and a few chuckles from the soldiers in the camp. The Kingdom’s army, except for Gautier's men who were holding the fort in their absence, had only taken the bare minimum with them, but a few board games had found a place there, giving them the opportunity to busy themselves when they made camp. Judai had kind of jumped onto the occasion, everytime he wasn't being dragged around by Felix to learn dancing. He had missed games, fun games, the kind that wouldn't have more than a bruised ego as a casualty. Wiping the floor with soldiers who did not expect his knack for strategy wasn't as fun as going against Sylvain, though, because Sylvain was _good_.

Just... not as good as Judai.

"So we're currently at fifteen wins in my favour," Judai said in a sing-song voice.

"You fucker," Sylvain grumbled, "how are you so good at this? I thought you didn't know how to play just a few days ago."

"I am a fast learner. And I've always been good at strategy games."

" _Yeah, I see that_."

His ill-mood wasn't that serious and that probably was why Judai couldn't help but snort with laughter. A bit further from them, Annette called out.

"Sylvain, if you're done getting your ass kicked, I could use some help with a spell?"

"Sure, sure," the red-haired man answered with a smile, "what is it this time?"

He left Judai to tidy up the pieces, not that Judai really complained. Yubel wondered in his head about how it was that _Annette_ would ask _Sylvain_ for help with a spell, but Judai wasn't that surprised. Despite his lack of interest in complex magic, the young man was surprisingly apt at fire spells and pretty sharp. A second pair of eyes was always welcome, she could have chosen a worse partner.

His own eyes followed Annette with a heavy heart. While they had been spared battle for now - thank Goodness - he had watched her try out spells more than once. And it was how he had ended up seeing her crest.

It had felt like a hand holding his throat at the time and he had been unable to look at her for days. Even now, seeing her big and bright blue eyes, he couldn't help but see them morph into grey, slightly obscured by glasses. Self-doubt despite hard work and incredible talent, even that was terribly familiar.

Yet, somehow, it hadn't been as hard as seeing Ingrid's crest for the first time.

He stopped himself in the middle of his retrieval of game pieces, just thinking about it simply hurt. It wasn't exactly more painful than Annette, but... harsher somehow. Because it was a reminder of steadfast determination and an understanding he wasn't sure he had ever reached with anyone else. A pillar of strength he sorely missed right now and really wished he could talk to.

Exhaling slowly, he finished tidying up the game. He had seen Mercedes's crest once too, but that one didn't ring any bells, maybe he hadn't known the Nabatean it belonged to, he figured... It was probably better this way, he wasn't sure he'd have been able to stand one more.

"Father!"

The call made him jump and he raised his eyes to meet an embarrassed looking soldier with blonde hair. They hadn’t talked much, but Judai was pretty sure his name was Alain. The man must have been his age, maybe a bit younger, and it was terribly weird to hear him address him as such.

"Please don't," Judai winced, "I’d prefer you to call me by my name."

"Wouldn't that be disrespectful, though?" Alain asked, blushing. "Or do you prefer another title? I mean, Father is the title for bishops..."

"I've never been ordained," Judai fidgeted, feeling terribly awkward, "And I'm still learning about the Teachings of Seiros? I... know the link I have with the Goddess makes it look otherwise but..."

"For sure," the man nodded with a small smile, "I suppose it can be overwhelming. But please, know that if you are lost, we will help you. Everyone here is honoured to have you at our side."

Judai nodded dumbly, clamping his mouth shut to not start laughing hysterically. The fact that Rodrigue and Sylvain's plan was actually working slightly was still baffling to him. They didn't even have to do much, just let him be by their side during the journey and let the rumours about him go wild. And there some soldiers were. Acting as if he were a bishop. It was respectful, yes, but far from the authority Rodrigue and Sylvain hoped he would reach. Judai would lie if he said it wasn't a bit of a relief, honestly. While he understood the plan, being suddenly thrust into such a position wasn’t exactly something he hoped for.

"In any case," the soldier kept going with a small smile, "Lord Fraldarius's son wanted to see you. I figure you'll find him training outside."

Of course. More training. Judai nodded, exhaling slowly, and thanked him before moving and going to his training.

Felix was a harsh instructor, there was no doubt about it. There was so much stance correcting Judai was starting to wonder if his body would stay twisted with the way the man kept forcing him in one direction or the other. Funnily enough, most of the postures were easy to reach while moving, but hard to keep still, making it a lot less natural. Judai didn't complain, having the feeling that it was the only way the young man had to actually correct him. Despite his sword expertise, it was quite obvious his thoughts about dancing were that it was hell to explain and teach. Judai understood the idea of using your own energy to help people push forward, some kind of permanent power booster in a way, very efficient on a battlefield as long as the performer was sufficiently protected. (They wouldn't need to protect Judai, he figured that made him invaluable in a way. Well, if he one day dared telling them about his immortality...) What was harder to grasp was the way moving your body helped transmit that energy.

As they finished the lesson, he was sore and hurting. As always, Sylvain had watched over them after finishing his business with Annette, and was now teasing Felix about the performances he had shown when explaining. Probably because teasing was easier than admitting how slack-jawed he had been, staring at his friend. Not that he should have been surprised, with how graceful Felix's sword technique was. Grace was a skill to refine, but it was something that stayed within your body. So yes. Felix dancing had been a beautiful sight, and somehow Judai had been the least surprised of the two to realize it. Even Yubel had let out an appreciative humming before telling Judai he had a long way to go.

As the two men argued, Judai started changing. The dancer garments were a piece of art, though not entirely necessary to the technique. The way it was tailored was alluring, probably for aesthetic purposes, but most of it was still clearly made with battle and practicality in mind. The metallic ornaments reflected the light, which he figured could blind the opponent, but mostly, the shoulders and legs were lightly protected, while the flowing fabric allowed movement. It wouldn't save anyone from any strong attack, but it wasn't just a matter of looking beautiful.

Because the outfit really was beautiful. It had been too big for Judai at first, Felix was much taller than he was after all. But Mercedes didn't need to make too many adjustments for it to fit. Yet, even fitted, Judai couldn't look at himself in the mirror without seeing a stranger.

It was the white, he figured after a while, and the blue.

He had given up on white years ago, turning to dark colours instead, the immaculate colour felt almost mocking at times, pure but so easily dirtied. And blue? Blue had been Asuka and Fubuki and Ryou and Manjoume and Johan and even Shou, but not him. Never him. He had always been more of a red kind of guy. Reds and blacks, colours he used to think as warm.

Not anymore, no. Red was the colour of those they fought, the blood shed, the anger that replaced the tears of those who lost so much. Red was the coldest colour.

That didn't change how weird that white and blue looked on him.

" _You look pretty,_ " Yubel had said the first time. They couldn't lie to him, yet he still wasn't sure if he trusted them on that. He was almost certain such a beautiful thing was wasted on someone looking as ordinary as him.

He finished changing up quickly, finding Sylvain still laughing while Felix, irate, glared coldly at him. Pretty sure he didn't want to know what had happened while he wasn't there, Judai smiled at his improvised teacher.

"Thanks for the lesson. I know it's asking you a lot, to teach me that."

"Don't thank him," Sylvain snorted, "he's using you as a punching ball."

"You can take his place anytime," Felix seethed.

"I've had teachers much harsher than that. Don't worry for me."

"Don't give him ideas, kid, you'd regret it."

The slap he got on the back of the head kind of gave Judai the impression that _he_ was the one giving Felix ideas, not Judai. Oh well, whatever, if he enjoyed getting beaten up so much, Judai wouldn't stop him. Not that he'd be in any place to judge after all.

"Anyway," Felix growled, glaring at Sylvain as if he was going to strangle him, "I'm not sure if I'm comfortable having you in the next battle, but you should be able to prove useful in case of a skirmish. Which is looking pretty likely."

"Yeah," Sylvain said, massaging his head, suddenly more serious, "Alliance lands are a mess. It's no wonder they tried to avoid joining the war if that was their internal situation..."

Daphnel and Riegan lands had been tense with fear, villagers ready to push them back with pikes and forks, terror in their eyes even once they realized they weren't Imperial troops. From what Judai's spirits had gathered, there were envoys that came regularly, from Gloucester, from Ordelia. From the Empire and the 'Dukedom' too. They came, sowing dissent and setting fire to their harvests and houses, trying to push them away, to weaken the lands, to force the northern lords, who refused the Empire's rule, to submit.

And those had been the lucky lands. Their forces were stretched thin, but the lords actually worked to help, providing armed protection, food and shelter whenever possible. To the South, though, it looked like lord Gloucester was full on collaborating. Scouts had come back reporting cases of missing persons, usually taken in the middle of the night by people dressed in black and going south, right into Imperial lands. No search parties were ever launched, either because of fear or because those taken had opposed the lords and so said lords didn’t care about their disappearance.

No one was safe anywhere in Leicester, but the southernmost you went, the more dangerous it was these days, and they were barely tip-toeing on Gloucester’s borders. Annette had been quietly bemoaning the state of things at dinner, last night, talking about how she had always dreamed of visiting the Alliance. And now that she was going through it? The war had made it a nightmarish place.

"Gloucester never made his lands safe," Felix rolled his eyes, "the war hasn't changed much on this part."

"Makes me wonder what Lorenz thinks of this," Sylvain said as they walked back to camp, Judai holding the dancer outfit tightly in his arms, "don't get me wrong, he pissed me off, but he didn't seem like an actual bad person."

"Of course he pissed you off," Felix scoffed back, "the only person who always enjoyed his company was Ferdinand. Last time he heard about something his father did, though, he was livid. It wouldn't surprise me if he used the reunion as an excuse to get out of there."

Sylvain chuckled without amusement and Judai put the name ‘Lorenz’ right under the ‘Lord Gloucester’ box in his head, with a small arrow that indicated ‘son’. After a second, he added the notes ‘Golden Deer’ and ‘Friend of Felix’ to his memory bank. Yubel patted his head and promised to remember for him.

They had managed to avoid combat since their arrival, despite the state of the lands. The Kingdom's army might not have been half as strong as it should have been, but it was still a large group of people, mostly armed pretty heavily. Bandits didn't think of them as an appealing target, too much risk for not enough reward. So they mostly stood unopposed, and did their best to stay undetected too. It wouldn't do any good to have the already fraying nerves of the land's lords turned in their direction when they weren't here to fight. Didn’t mean a skirmish wouldn’t happen. As Felix and Sylvain had said, it was still pretty likely...

The walk had been monotonous, something Judai had never thought he'd enjoy. He used to live for thrills and action, but not that kind, he guessed. He had learnt to take an uneventful journey for what it was in times of war: an actual blessing.

" _That or you're becoming old,_ " Yubel said bluntly.

" _Well I'm around a thousand years old._ "

They snorted, like admitting he had a point. They didn't mind the peace either, always the kind to prefer quiet and dark corners than the spotlight and the cheers. They had made an odd couple back in their youth...

However small it was compared to what it should have been, the camp was always bustling with energy and action. Some soldiers absent-mindedly greeted their return while others settled down, their chores finally over. The Pegasus Knights were still taking care of their mounts, which meant Ingrid wouldn't be here to watch over Judai. Not that she did that much anymore, even the most suspicious of the Kingdom people seemed to have warmed up to him, which he would usually have been pretty happy about. The sudden deference of so many, however, was disturbing. It was sincere, that might have been the craziest part of it, but it was entirely due to some perceived 'holiness' or something like that and he hated it.

The fact that it was all Rodrigue and Sylvain's plan in case Dimitri turned entirely unreasonable was the only reason he hadn't started telling everyone just _how_ unholy he was. Better not destroy a plan unless you had a good replacement. Didn't mean he had to like it...

He bid the still bickering Sylvain and Felix good bye and found Annette and Mercedes, currently on cooking duty. He had started gravitating towards that duty in the last weeks, staying as far from weapons maintenance as he could since... well, as they didn't use them since their departure, said work didn't seem to serve any purpose except keeping people busy. Not that he hoped it'd change quickly, but still, that was pretty boring.

Annette and Mercedes, however, weren't boring. Annette was so clumsy it took all of her willpower not to keep ruining what she was doing, but having him and Mercedes to help her relax did wonders for her productivity. Mercedes was a much better baker than cook, but she still had more basics than both of them. Judai honestly... didn't think he was too bad. Just not a masterful chef. All in all, they made a decent team, and the two of them had a gift to keep the demons in his head at bay - no, not you Yubel, I love you very much, you're welcome to participate.

"Getting the hang of it?" Annette asked him lightly as she gave him a sack of potatoes.

"I think so. Felix probably disagrees though."

"Don't mind his moody face, I'm sure you're doing great!"

"Very probably," Mercedes smiled angelically, "if you weren't showing promise or progress, he wouldn't be still teaching you."

"You two are too kind, you don't even know how I'm doing."

"Because Mister Sourface doesn't want us to watch," Annette pouted, "which is mean. Sylvain can, and _I_ let him listen to me when I sing!"

"That's nice of you, Annie," Mercedes giggled, "your songs are so cute after all!"

They kept talking about inane things, Judai chirping in here and there, feeling his heart get lighter and lighter with each passing second. There really was nothing like joy to force you away from fear and horror. He hoped he'd sleep well enough tonight.

He did not sleep well enough.

That had nothing to do with his mind, though, for once. A scout had come rushing back, the hooves of his horse hitting the hard ground too loudly for anyone who had turned a light sleeper. Judai rose immediately, panic at the corner of his mind. He jumped up, putting on a coat and ran outside of the tent he shared with Sylvain.

Movement was happening in other tents he could see, Sylvain too was waking up and rising with a groan. It was still night, dawn maybe. The sun was barely starting to appear. Far too early in any case.

Finding the scout wasn't difficult, only one horse was inside the camp right now, and the man in front of it was speaking with Rodrigue, eyes wide with trepidation and fear. What was going on?

"There's a fight approaching," Rodrigue said the moment he saw him, "everyone gear up."

"A fight?" Judai repeating, confused. "What do you mean?"

"A conflict between lords it seems, a fight that started at night. It was far enough from here that they shouldn't have noticed us as long as we didn't come near."

"A battle tends to move."

"Precisely."

Well crap. That wasn't good. The scout was moving around already, screaming at everyone to wake up and prepare. Some needed to start wrapping up camp. All those who felt able to fight needed to prepare for battle, to push back before their camp ended up trampled.

"Judai," Rodrigue added, "could you please..."

"I'll check on Dimitri."

The lord nodded, a small smile on his face. Judai didn't wait to see him re enter his tent and put his armor on. He rushed outside, to the outskirts of camp, where Dimitri had elected to spend his night. He never slept inside if he could help it, never too close to many humans. Judai wondered if it was the feeling of being trapped or the fear of hurting someone that stopped him.

The man was already up, the bags under his eye darker than ever.

"Dimitri..."

"I heard."

The harshness of his voice made Judai stiffen. During the last days, Dimitri had been... well, not civil, but a bit calmer. His face had been less distant, his ghosts had seemed less noisy. Judai couldn't swear that he didn't have nightmares anymore, but he hadn't heard him waking up screaming. He wasn't exactly mellowing out, but it was progress, however small.

This haunted face and this harsh voice sounded like relapse.

"These people are not your enemies," Judai said firmly, "they're lords who are fighting each other. They don't know we're in their way."

"Too bad," Dimitri growled, "they're in mine."

And he walked, Areadbhar in hand, moving past Judai without another glance.

It hurt. Judai stayed there for a few seconds, letting his feelings wash over him. Yubel hummed.

" _Don't let him do anything reckless._ "

"Are you really asking that of me?" he mumbled. "Hypocritical of me."

" _Hypocritical or not, don't._ "

"I won't. You know I won't."

He turned back, rushing to follow the blonde prince.

The battle found them too soon. They weren't ready. Felix threw a sword into his hand with a growled 'don't die' before rushing forwards, Judai following him with difficulty. Sylvain's black armor followed him too, the man didn't have the time to find his horse. Ingrid, however, was already mounting her Pegasus, teeth clenched and Luin firmly attached to her back. Judai didn't have any time to prepare either, today would not be the day he'd try dancing in battle...

They were drawing a line, waiting. Judai searched for Dimitri's large back and blonde hair. He found him soon enough and threw himself to his side. The prince was already walking, ready to march into a battle they were unprepared for and that wasn't theirs to fight.

Judai caught his sleeve.

"Wait," he hissed.

Dimitri kept walking as if he hadn't heard him. Using all the strength Darkness and Yubel could give him, Judai pulled, forcing him to stop in his tracks.

"I said," he repeated slowly, " _wait_."

Dimitri glared at him. But he stopped. Judai refused to let go of his sleeve. People were staring, he knew. But there was no way he'd let him go. Not with so many lives at stake. They couldn't simply rush into a conflict between two parties without knowing anything of the situation. If anything, they needed to have Rodrigue talk with the leader of one of the opposing factions to be granted passage, something like that. The political ramifications escaped him a bit, he wasn't sure how they would get out of that one if he was to be honest.

Wing it was a decent tactical option as long as lives weren't implicated. Judai's heart was beating fast in anxiety, wondering what he could do, how to help, how to save, how to avoid a bloodbath…

His hand, on Dimitri’s arm, stung a bit. It gave him a strange feeling, somewhere between ice and lightning, and he didn’t know if it was the cold or his own fear, but he didn’t like it. He clung harder.

Not too far from them, he heard Felix swear. 

"What?" Sylvain asked.

"Balthus."

Sylvain gasped. From the troops they could see from afar, a man was running towards them, looking a bit panicked. His black mane was cascading down his back as Judai felt himself unable not to stare at his bulging muscles. And his absolutely gigantic...

" _Yubel,_ " he thought with a bit of shock " _I think that man is taller than you are._ "

They stayed silent for a second, impressed by the behemoth's size too he figured.

" _Okay that's true, maybe he is,_ " they huffed, " _we can't be sure. But even if he is? Well does he have wings? No? I didn't think so. I still win._ "

The man's voice echoed in panicked anger.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He roared. "This is a battle zone, it's dangerous!"

They were also in a territory that didn't belong to them and were transgressing through it, but he didn't seem to care much about that. Judai liked him already.

Rodrigue joined them, eyes serious, having left his horse behind too. Balthus paled, likely recognizing him and realizing just how serious this all was.

"Seriously," he groaned as he got closer to the de facto commander of the army of Faerghus, "you guys have no reason to be here. I'd get mad at you but I have other business to attend."

"What kind of business, young man?" Rodrigue asked with that soft voice of his.

Balthus looked at them, clearly wondering what he could tell them, not that Judai blamed him. He gave him an embarrassed smile that definitely didn't reflect the gravitas of the situation.

"Oh well," Balthus ended up shrugging, "you guys are probably on our side for that anyway. Claude has been working on a plan to keep Gloucester's forces at bay for a bit of time. That's what we're doing. Occupying them for a few days."

"The Alliance leader you say?" Rodrigue was smiling. "That's interesting. Might we lend you a hand?"

What?

No, now that he thought about it, it made sense. They couldn't jump in the middle of a melee, but joining a side immediately made sense. It helped give sense to the fight, distinguishing allies from enemies. Plus, it'd mean having the leader of the Alliance in their debt. All good things to hopefully make an alliance in the future. Judai smiled, horror replaced for a second with a rush of relief. Good Gods, may all of them bless Rodrigue for his quick thinking.

“You’d do that,” Balthus said, bemused, “well I sure hope you didn’t intend to go through Gloucester’s lands afterwards, it’s gonna make you persona non grata there for sure.”

Which was a problem. Damn.

“Don’t worry,” Rodrigue said with a small smile, “I don’t think Lord Gloucesters would have let us go through his lands if we asked him to, anyway. But I think the confusion of the situation will help us enough.”

“I sincerely don’t like where this is going,” Balthus sighed, “but it’s better than nothing. Prepare yourself, the battle will be upon us in a few minutes.”

Rodrigue called out a few orders, making sure they knew which side to fight, even Dimitri nodded, eye stormy but not as dangerous as it was. Judai felt safe enough to let go of him. Balthus was giving them a rundown of the families fighting at their side. The purpose of the fight wasn't to annihilate the opposing camp but to make sure the families allied with Gloucester retreated soon enough when they realized victory was impossible. Hopefully seeing Kingdom families at their side would hurry that part.

"Also kiddo," he said at Felix, "Lorenz ain't here. Don't hold back."

"As if I would," the swordsman growled back, drawing his weapon.

"Judai," Rodrigue said right in the middle of his orders, putting a hand on his shoulder, "you stay by my side. Mages, keep in range of my magic. Ingrid, Sylvain, Felix, you watch over His Highness."

Everything was moving fast. Judai held onto the sword and nodded, reaching for shadows. They barely answered, once again. As if they were too far from here, unable to answer his call properly. It still hurt, like stretching a limb too far, and it wasn't supposed to.

The more he searched for shadows, the less they seemed to appear. It was starting to scare him. A lot. As if every passing day, darkness was disappearing from the land, and instead he could feel more and more overwhelming and aggressive light, pushing for more fighting, more destruction...

" _Eyes on the battle, love._ " Yubel hissed in his ear.

"Right on."

The front lines were charging and his heart skipped a beat. Balthus had ran up ahead to warn his friends about their upcoming forces. They could see him, chatting with a bearded man holding an axe that looked far too big. Their men were charging too. Good, that gave them a target.

The clash was painful. Logically, Judai knew this probably wasn't the most violent impact there had been during this war, it was barely a lordly dispute with minimal forces sent.

But for him, it was the harshest battle since he had woken. 

Swords were glinting and slashing, lances thrusting and axes ripping apart. The sound of broken bones was unbearable. He shook his head. Stay near Rodrigue, the lord had said. That left them time to prepare in the quiet for a bit of time before having to fight. He forced his eyes open and searched for Dimitri's back. The blonde man was a tempest, a hurricane of sheer power. And around him, three blurs were stopping anyone who could overwhelm him, three loyal friends guarding his back. Dimitri didn't look back, likely lost to his ghosts once again.

Judai stared at him and then apologized to Yubel.

" _Do what you need to to survive, my love,_ " they answered softly.

He felt their hand, softly holding his soul and, with a decisive snap, locked his heart away.

When enemies reached the group of mages, he was ready. The first time Annette got jumped on the side, he swirled, calling darkness forth, miasma and shadows burning the poor soul to the ground. There was no time to stop. He moved and turned and fought, his sword finding a new home into some woman's leg as he jumped up to stop one who had attacked Mercedes. Darkness was a force of creation, but nothing had ever stopped these creations from being destructive. Spears of pure darkness, tripping people up, materialised from his weakened form, all lost in the chaos of battle.

He saw lights around them, lights that were familiar, powers that he had once fought with, a comfort and a pain all in all, allies he was losing hope he’d ever see again, but for a few minutes, if he let his body act on its own, he could forget about all the blood and the loss and bask in the comforting presences, the names of people he knew and loved, once more by his side.

He only came back to himself when the military horns sounded, announcing the enemy's retreat.

Where did he put the sword, he wondered for a bit when seeing his empty hands, before realizing they were moving away from the field. Further away, Rodrigue was talking with Balthus and the bearded man. He didn't see the four childhood friends anywhere, but Annette and Mercedes weren't far, Annette talking excitedly to her friend, her cheeks pink.

"Hey Judai!" she waved at him. "Thanks for the assist earlier, it really saved me!"

Right, he had helped her, hadn't he? Hadn't he? He thought so, but it was hard to be sure. He smiled back at her, forcing his lips up. Must have looked wobbly, but better than nothing. Annette was singing his praises to Mercedes and the young woman was smiling serenely at her, but her eyes jumped at him a few times, as if worried.

A hand fell on his shoulder, someone of his size patting him awkwardly. Oh, there was Ingrid. Sylvain and Felix were not far behind her, Dimitri further back and already disappearing in the crowd of people. He just stared, not sure how he was feeling or how he should react. Ingrid fidgeted.

"Thanks," she tried, "for helping Annette."

She moved away without waiting for an answer he didn't have anyway. Sylvain winked at him, pronouncing teasing words he couldn't hear. His ears felt full of cotton and he just nodded, feeling vaguely out of his body, though more present than during the battle. Yubel's voice was singing in his ears, slowly bringing him home and releasing the heart he had kept out of the way. It felt brittle, like sand. He did not have the mental fortitude to celebrate their victory, right now...

As their group started walking towards those who had evacuated the camp, he moved away from those who were rushing to where Manuela had set up some kind of infirmary for the wounded, in search of silence. He needed to clear his head a bit.

Footsteps followed him. Judai gulped a big mouthful of air, trying to force himself to focus. He stopped walking without turning. It was obvious who it was.

"Did you want anything, Felix?" Oh, his voice was shaking. That wasn't good.

"You left the battlefield literally unscathed."

He had. He didn't know if anything had hit him but, well... Not like it would matter if it had.

"That's not a question."

"Why try to become a dancer when you're already that efficient?"

Oh. He should have guessed. There wasn't even curiosity in his tone of voice, it was all practicality. ‘Is there actually any point in me teaching you?’ ‘Do you have good reasons to want that?’ ‘I thought it was so you could be useful.’

Judai almost retorted that _Felix_ was the one who had told him he wasn't ready for the battlefield. It would have been a lie from both of them, though. They knew exactly why Felix hadn't wanted him to fight at the time.

"I hate killing people."

It was simple. Out in the open. Nothing out of the ordinary. Judai looked at his trembling hands. They refused to still. How long had been since he had killed and how easy and natural had it been once again?

"I know it's war," he mumbled, "I know it. But it doesn't matter how much I know it, it doesn't change how the simple idea makes me sick. I can't get used to it."

Dancing didn't mean he wouldn't have to kill. But it meant his primary job wouldn't be so. He was no healer, had never been. So if he couldn't save, it was the next best option, as far as he knew.

"It might seem cowardly, but if there was any way to help you without having to kill... I wanted to try it. I will fight, of course. I can. I have, today. But... the option is nice, you know?"

Felix didn't answer. Judai didn't turn to him, not sure what kind of expression he would see on his face.

"Killing people is all I'm good at."

The quiet admission took him by surprise. When he turned, though, Felix wasn't looking at him. His uncaring eyes were fixated on a bird, not that far from here and Judai could see that he was weighing in whether hunting it for lunch would be worthwhile. He was… unscathed, Judai noted with surprise. Not even a bruise or a scratch. Even when one was as fast and strong at him, it was still pretty incredible, he was pretty sure even Ingrid and Sylvain had shown light wounds. And yet...

"Fe..."

"Even that can become tiring after a while though."

The words 'are you okay' wanted to tumble out of Judai's mouth. He stopped them, knowing he wouldn't get an answer, not one he could work with at least. Felix seemed to figure the bird wasn't worth it and turned back to him.

"You saw Balthus."

"Yes? I think Lord Rodrigue was talking with him when we left."

"It wouldn't have lasted long, there’s nothing he can do for us. Balthus doesn't really have any influence in the Alliance."

"Right. The commander was that other man?"

"Nardel."

Judai didn't know why, but that name made the corner of Felix's mouth twitch up.

"Is that his name?"

"Probably not."

"What?"

Yes, there was genuine amusement in Felix's eyes. Judai stared, flabbergasted, having no idea what it was exactly that the man found so funny.

"I'm pretty sure it's not his real name, and that no one in the Alliance had heard of him before today."

"What do you mean?"

"That it'd be just like Claude."

He was smirking this time, full and sincere, desperately trying to chase it off his face and failing. What a sight. Was it Claude von Riegan's effect on him? Suddenly, his friends' jealousy explained itself.

"Just like him to do what?"

Felix shrugged, as if there was no actual answer to give.

"If he's not exactly a famous Fodlan General at the service of the Riegan family, there's no reason to believe he could have been sent here precisely to deal with Alliance forces. It's easy to play the denial part."

"... I'm not sure I follow."

"Claude would like the Alliance united. Distracting Gloucester's forces with a batallion is something. Destroying any chance of having the man on his side is another. Without any personal grievances that can be used as proof of wrongdoings, it's much easier to shake it off as if it was an accident."

Judai still didn't entirely follow but he had already known that Alliance politics were a slippery territory.

"So basically," he mumbled, "Claude wants to pretend he didn't order this battle?"

"Not exactly," Felix said, thoughtful, "it's tough to explain. From what I've understood, Leicester lords fight over everything and anything. They like using previous wrongdoings as reasons for dispute. Having someone with no link he can prove to Claude makes it easier for them both to make peace after the fact. It's easier to pretend nothing happened when the general that defeated yours isn't walking in your rival's shadow, if you see what I mean."

"... Okay, I think I get it. But what does the man's name change?"

"A lot."

Well that was all he was getting from him today, obviously. Judai pouted, wondering if he should send his spirits to scout the area and bring him info. With how shadows seemed to disappear more and more as they went deeper into Alliance territory, he was feeling protective and didn't like sending them away from him...

But not knowing was aggravating. If other surprises like this one awaited them, he might have as many questions to ask Claude von Riegan as said man would have for him once they finally got time.

"Another interesting thing," he finally grumbled, "would be to know why they had to fight. I thought Claude's forces were at Garreg Mach, what were those people doing here? Balthus mentioned distracting Gloucester but why..."

Felix inhaled, eyes suddenly more distant, and Judai almost hated himself for destroying the first glimpse of a positive feeling he had seen on him since they met.

"Obviously, they needed Gloucester out of the way."

"Out of the way for what?"

"For marching on the one place they'd need to cross that was under Gloucester's supervision."

Gloucester's supervision. Judai tried to picture the map, but it was incomplete in his head, he couldn't see it. What place did they need to...

 _"The bridge."_ Yubel reminded him.

The bridge.

Oh, _that_ bridge.

"Myrddin." he realized.

Felix nodded.

"The Alliance definitely marched on Myrddin today. They've started their counter attack on Adrestian lands."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Nader. I really do, him and Judith both! While I forgive AM for not giving us Rodrigue as a playable unit because we already got three exclusive units in that route, I'm incredibly mad that neither Nader nor Judith were playable units in Verdant Wind. It's my favourite route, but Claude being the only unit exclusive to it still rubs me the wrong way... (also the fact that Silver Snow has NO exclusive units still makes me sad...) In any case, I really love them and was pretty happy to be able to put a small glimpse of what Nader might have been doing during the attack on Myrddin!  
> Also, Balthus being maybe taller than Yubel was a joke I added when I realized I had no idea what size Yubel was, just that they were tall as hell. They're going to have a shock if they even meet Dedue, that's for sure! (I honestly did not realize that Dedue was the tallest of the cast until I had a height chart under my eyes, Balthus's bombastic personality had made me think it was him!)  
> Well now that we're done here, happy new year again everyone! Let's hope next year isn't as... _chaotic_ as this one was!


	19. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain is jealous and confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the time it took! I've had a lot of stuff to do ever since the new year you have no idea x) And the fact that this chapter is probably not the most interesting one to read made me hesitate to post it alone too. But you know, waiting until the next chapter was done so I could post two at once would only delay everything... So in the end I hesitated a lot and am still posting this one on its own. BUT chapter 19 should not take long :)  
> In any case, please enjoy this (mostly) light-hearted chapter, we're not going to get much of these for a while I fear...  
> Since I'm not expecting everyone to have the damn calendar of events like I did when I wrote all that, I figure I should clarify that this chapter happens sometimes during Hilda's flashback chapter, which starts before and ends after this one. It's not the most story-rich chapter, but writing Sylvain in a mental crisis is always fun! For me, not for him.  
> Poor Sylvain.

**Chapitre 18**

_I know what it's like staying up all night_

_Nursing wounds_

_It takes more than I have, pick fights with the past,_

_I always lose_

**12th day of the Ethereal Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

**Sylvain**

Sylvain was nervous. He had been nervous the moment he had heard that Felix's father had asked for help to defend villagers. Felix's relationship with his father was complicated at best, strained at a little less best, terrible anytime they had more than four minutes to talk to each other. So yes, Sylvain had been worried instantly. And had then wondered why, in all that was holy, he hadn't asked him for back-up.

Not asking Ingrid made sense, both of them involuntarily ganging up on Felix was a recipe for disaster, and that wasn't even talking about Dimitri, even though the prince would have jumped at the opportunity of helping his citizens and his adoptive father in the same breath.

But no, Felix had asked none of them. Instead, he had asked his class. The Golden Deer were starting to spend far too much time in Kingdom Territory for Sylvain to be comfortable.

So yes, Sylvain was extremely nervous. He had smiled and joked and winked as usual, but he had also been pacing and waiting, every second, for them to come back. Yet, when they did, the mood was nothing but great. Except for the professor who looked a bit ill (maybe it was a side-effect from her injury last month?), everyone was talking and chatting and smiling as if they hadn't been in a life-or-death battle just yesterday, and Felix didn't seem as down in the dumps as he could be every time his father entered the picture. In fact, the way he and Marianne had been talking made it look like it was about swords. Because Felix rarely was that enthusiastic when speaking about something other than swords. The shy blue-haired girl was even smiling a bit, something she rarely did.

It should have made Sylvain feel better. Really, it should.

So why was it that the only thing he could think of was whether or not Felix would have been in such high spirits if it was him he had called for back-up?

One thing was for sure, none of the missions Sylvain had joined with the Blue Lions had seen them come back smiling and talking so loudly. Whether it had been pushing back a Duscurian rebellion or killing the last remnants of Miklan's bandits group, none had really felt good. And it probably made him a hypocrite, to be vexed that Felix hadn't called for him when none of them had asked him for his help with those. Especially the last one. No, Sylvain had done all he could so he wouldn't even know they had gone on that mission. He would have worried too much.

But surely, that couldn't be the reason Felix hadn't asked Sylvain for help with his father, right? Sylvain worried, yes, but a father/son talk wasn't the same as... whatever cleaning up Miklan's mess could be considered as.

Or maybe Sylvain was just petty. Yes, he was still hurt by how Felix had left them without even a word and then proceeded to avoid them for weeks, giving them no explanation. It had been complicated to spend time with him, and pain had left place to annoyance. Truth being said, Sylvain didn't think he would have been that frustrated had it simply been Felix being Felix, running from his feelings and trying to push people away before they could hurt him. But that wasn't what was happening here. No, Felix had made friends with the Golden Deer. Somehow.

Sylvain just didn't get it.

A small voice that suspiciously sounded like his own told him that he was maybe jealous, which was making him react irrationally, but it was drowned out by the lack of comprehension.

How? Why? These people were nothing to him just a few months ago. They didn't share anything, they hadn't known him forever, there was no bond between them. And yet...

"I just don't understand," he admitted to Mercedes over tea, "it's not like he was ever close to any of them before."

"Maybe that's the reason," the young woman told him softly, "there's no baggage there, no memories. It's a fresh start with no bad blood or History."

Maybe so. But Sylvain thought their bond was stronger than that, wasn't it? And it wasn't as if there was any bad blood between him and Felix! They had argued, sure, but it had never been as angry and personal as he could get with Ingrid or Dimitri.

With only half an answer and his mood already pretty bad, he went back to his room, a new letter from his father in hand. He skimmed it, expecting to see nothing of value there. ‘Take care of the Lance of Ruin, it's our most important possession. Do not destroy our family name. Stop your ceaseless philandering and find a wife already.’ Instead, he was surprised to see awkward words telling him to take care of himself, towards the end of the letter. He stared at the lines, strangely human, coming after reports about House Gautier’s current situation. Winter made Sreng more peaceful it seemed, the borders were calm. These words, they almost sounded like reassurance, like he wasn't needed right now and shouldn't worry about them.

But it couldn't have been, he figured, his parents weren't the kind to reassure and worry about their children. After all, it was the first letter they had sent him in months, ever since...

Well, ever since the Verdant Rain moon.

Sylvain burnt the letter with a sliver of Reason magic. He had books on Sreng to read, it'd be more interesting than taking the time to answer.

Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.

When he woke up because of loud knocking against his door, Sylvain was dreaming, though he didn't remember what about. He was pretty sure it had been unpleasant, though. The knocking started again and he groaned, standing up and opening his door.

On the other side of said door was Dimitri. Sylvain almost closed it again before remembering it was probably immense disrespect, childhood friends or not. Yes, he was an insolent one, at times he could almost swear it was what Dimitri liked most about him. But he just wasn't in the mood, right after waking up, for probable nagging. Seriously, his two blonde friends might need to marry if they were both going to police his actions. Not that he wished them on a child, especially not both at the same time...

Dimitri's face relaxed the moment he saw him, sudden relief softening his features.

"Oh," he exhaled, "you're here. Good."

"Whazzit Your Highness?" he yawned. "Need to hide from a girl again?"

Dimitri flushed violently, cheeks burning crimson in shame.

"NO! I mean, no, certainly not, I learnt my lesson, I shall never again... Anyway, no, I was just worried. You weren't in class."

"Class?"

Sylvain turned towards his room's window. The sun was setting down, evening coming up. Wait, evening?

Everything came back to him and he groaned. He had missed all of the afternoon.

"Sorry Your Highness," he said sheepishly, "I guess I fell asleep and missed class."

"I figured," the prince said with a resigned expression, "and I'm not surprised. You haven't been sleeping much, recently."

He hadn't, indeed, but how his friend who slept like the dead knew, hard to guess. Maybe he hadn't hidden the bags under his eyes well enough.

"Come on, hit me up Your Highness," he yawned, opening the door wide, "what did you talk about in class?"

Dimitri entered meekly, acting less like a prince and more like an intruder. He had always been like that, polite to a fault. It would have been annoying if it wasn't so endearing, coming from the person supposed to rule over them all instead of the other way around.

Too bad he couldn’t be that accommodating when they had chores together...

"It was a mix between a History lesson and a Tactics lesson," Dimitri said, fidgeting as he searched for a place to sit, "we talked about Myrddin."

Sylvain gestured towards the chair at his desk and sat on his bed.

"Huh, Myrddin? I guess it's because we went there a few days ago, what with the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion."

"Yes, professor Hanneman thought it was an interesting lesson for us, as we had had the opportunity of appraising the place. We talked about the ways it was used in different wars, and then mentioned hypotheticals."

Hanneman and his damn hypotheticals. The man loved his imaginary scenarios a lot. Sylvain didn't mind, or more like he wouldn't if only they didn't spend so much time on them every single lesson.

"What kinds?" he said, forcing his usual easy smile on his face.

"How key strategic points like that could be used in case of a war between the Empire and the Alliance, mostly. As a class mostly made-up of Faerghus people he figured it wouldn't offend anyone. The conclusion was that whoever held the bridge could easily invade either country."

Sylvain snorted and looked at his friend, who was smiling a bit.

"It's a moot point," the red-haired man said simply, "the Empire's army is much bigger than the Alliance's. Probably less strained too, what with having no border territories to defend like the Alliance does with Almyra. Bridge or no bridge, Leicester would have no chance. They'd surrender before the bridge was taken."

"Maybe," oh Dimitri looked a bit upset at that. Maybe he wished Sylvain had been in class to add his voice to the debate, one could dream, "but it's just hypotheticals. We cannot be sure of what would happen. And I sure hope we never will. Claude, El and I will work to maintain the peace that Fodlan lives in after all."

El? Sylvain raised an eyebrow, wondering since when his prince was that close to the Imperial princess. He had seen him talk with Claude quite a bit, but her? Not really, no.

"I hope so too," he said instead of making a bad joke, that could come later when he’d know for sure it was harmless to tease him about that, he’d rather not have a royal scandal, "but I wouldn't say there's peace. Between Almyra and Sreng, only the Empire is really at peace, now. They have been so since the end of the Dagdan war. And they're taking hostages for that peace to stand."

Luck bastards. Except for Petra who was as unlucky as one could get. Well, as long as no one in Brigid decided to rebel, he figured she was at least well treated...

No one in the Empire, right now, would be like him, at fourteen, already sent to serve against Sreng... Sure, his role as an heir had kept him from the front lines, but not from smaller battles. Again, and again, until his father sent him to the Academy. Not that Sylvain was complaining for the break. He never cared much for fighting. So maybe he had let himself go easy while he was there. Who could blame him when he had so much of it to do back home? Felix could, but Felix was addicted to fighting, so his opinion didn't count on this.

He honestly was jealous. He had been jealous of many people during his life, but the whole Empire for not having had to fight a war in years? More than anything. Sure, there had been insurrections in Hrym at times. But it was just one territory in civil unrest. It could have been worse. It wasn't battlefield after battlefield, blood and death after blood and death. It wasn't _war_.

"You will make peace with Sreng."

Sylvain raised his head again, when had he lowered it? Dimitri was looking at him with resolve, his knowing blue eyes shining. It looked like his old friend had known exactly where his thoughts had brought him.

"I know you can do it," the prince promised, "I know it's always been your dream. You will end the war with Sreng. And this day, the Kingdom will be at peace."

Sylvain hoped so. Goddess, Sylvain hoped so.

Dimitri’s smile was small but sincere, the kind of expression he hadn’t shown Sylvain much recently. Well, recently, they mostly spent their time together fighting bandits or doing chores… Or more like Dimitri did the chores at some unrelenting pace, leaving Sylvain in the dirt and suddenly realizing he desperately lacked stamina.

"Wait," he suddenly realized, "it's evening. Didn't we have chores? Like, both of us?"

"Ah," Dimitri flushed, "my apologies, I should have told you about that first. Ingrid and I did most of them. She said not to worry about the rest so I figure she finished them for us, we owe her a heavy debt."

More like she'd catch Sylvain to force him to help her with her own chores, since she had more than they did. Well, that'd be fair enough.

"The downside of this," Dimitri then sighed, "is that we finished later than intended. So I did not manage to watch professor Eisner's master class at the training grounds. I believe she might make a few more, though, I hope I will be able to observe those."

"You," Sylvain laughed, "going to the training grounds to do anything other than training? I'll believe it when I see it."

"Well," Dimitri answered with his own small laugh, "I was still hoping to catch a glimpse, but it was too late. Most of the Golden Deer had left the venue, only Felix and Claude were left, training together, which also means that neither of them would have given me a spar. I kind of hoped professor Eisner could have trained with me instead, but I was too late unfortunately, she was already dueling Catherine. Though, maybe it was better that way, as I still didn’t know what had happened to you and was starting to worry, so I didn’t stay to watch..."

Had Sylvain listened to the sentence until the end, he might have winced and thought about how as time went by, less and less people wanted to fight Dimitri. The prince's strength was unparalleled, and only insanely strong people like Felix or Raphael found an equal in him. The others politely refused, not wanting to hurt themselves during what was supposed to be harmless training. Dimitri was so careful, but even like that, the fear stayed. Just one harmless small slip-up once in a while, and the roster of volunteers disappeared. Had he listened to the end, he might also have been sorry he had worried his friend so much.

He might have, yes. Except he didn't, because his brain stopped on Felix fighting Claude. It seemed surreal, once again. The Golden Deer House Leader wasn't a close combattant. A phenomenal archer, yes, anyone with at least one working eye would have noticed that. But close-combat really wasn't his thing. Felix must have been eating him alive, with no challenge. Yes, Claude had alluded to them sparring sometimes, Sylvain already hadn't believed it at the time. What value would Felix find in their time spent sparring?

"I might need to go there," he said out loud, "that should be interesting."

"Sylvain." Why was Dimitri's tone of voice so reproachful? Did he know about his uncharitable unreasonable thoughts? "I know professor Eisner is a beautiful lady, but you really should know better than ogle at a professor." What? No, that wasn't.. Oh, Dimitri, blessed were you for your perfect cover story.

"Come on," he winked, "I just want to see if her technique is as great as we were told!"

"Right," Dimitri said with the most unconvinced tone he could manage, "you better not be lying. I have to do research at the library so I cannot join you, but if I learn you conducted yourself in some uncouth manner..."

"Don't worry Your Highness, I don't intend to do anything that'd make you angry."

He just wanted to scratch an itch, after all. A very disturbing itch that kept bothering him. Now if only he could figure _how_ to do so...

Turned out he was a bit late when he arrived at the Training Grounds.

While it hadn't been his main reason for going there, Sylvain was curious, of course. He had seen professor Eisner in action very few times, but Felix held her work in high enough esteem that he transferred classes. And even if she wasn't there, it was Claude and Felix working against each other he wanted to see.

Unfortunately, it seemed he was too late. The training grounds were already almost deserted when he arrived. He was pretty sure that it was the first time he came here that early (usually to catch Felix, why else would he go there, really) and yet there was no trace of his friend's dark blue hair, which was… strange to say the least. A bit worrying too. Not a total bust, though, because Claude was indeed there. He was cleaning the training swords, happily humming something that sounded like a drinking song.

"Training already done?" Sylvain sauntered towards him. "And here I thought Felix would keep you here longer."

"Awww, did you hope to hope to ogle at us? We do make a quite dashing pair, I know."

Letting the obvious teasing slide off his feathers, Sylvain had a small laugh.

"More like he got enough of kicking your ass, knowing him."

"Oh we weren't sparring."

This, however, took Sylvain aback. Enough that his smile faltered in surprise. Claude finished cleaning his sword and turned to Sylvain, smiling mask firmly stuck on his lips.

"Really? What were you doing then?"

"Well his point blank position is much better than when we started and I'm finally getting the hand of how to not throw my sword at the ground in frustration. So we're getting better!"

Sylvain's brain blanked for a second, before he realized what Claude was saying. That Felix was teaching him how to handle a sword honestly wasn't that much of a surprise, he could be a good teacher if you had thick enough skin to endure the harsh words and the constructive criticism hidden behind them. What was mind-boggling to him however was...

"You're teaching Felix how to use a bow?"

"He has good basics already. Hunting I'd guess. But some recent close calls in battle have made most of us realize that having more than one type of weapon was a good idea. Especially having both ranged and melee options."

Felix was indeed a decent hunter and could use a bow efficiently if they were hunting for game. But not in battle, that wasn't exactly something most of the Kingdom was known for.

The question, though, was: when was the last time Felix had let anyone teach him anything? Well, anyone who wasn't a professor anyway. Sylvain could wrack his brain all he wanted, he couldn't remember. Before Duscur, that was for sure. But even back then, he had refused all three of his friends teaching him how to use the lance. There was something burning in his lungs and he wasn't sure what it was.

"Why does Felix like you so much?" he wondered aloud.

Claude's eyes burnt with mischievousness.

"Well, why do you think he likes _you_?"

And for a moment, Sylvain froze. Something that was increasingly happening when he talked to Claude.

Because indeed. What _did_ Felix like about him? He was always complaining about his womanizing ways, arguing about Dimitri, being mad at him for neglecting his training, or having that deeply disturbed look on his face anytime Sylvain made any self-deprecating joke or talked about his family. He could still remember Felix's hiss, low in his throat, the first time he had told him that nothing Sylvain could have done would justify Miklan pushing him down a well, and the warmth that has rolled down his stomach at these words. But even when he was being his strange form of affectionate, he couldn't remember Felix expressing even one positive thing about him recently.

Goddess he missed the times when Felix ran to him crying anytime he was upset, at least he knew it meant his friend trusted him and thought him comforting.

But that was before. Before Duscur and before Miklan was thrown out. Before Felix lost his innocence and joy, and before Sylvain completely gave up on being loveable, settling for charming instead. To be honest, Sylvain had always known there had to be something wrong with him. He was a weapon, an heir, a crest transmitter before he was human. He was cruel and much harsher with his smiles than Felix could ever be with his frowns and insults. Felix had dealt with the world by hiding his bleeding heart behind spikes. Sylvain had chosen to throw his own away.

"Wouldn’t you like to know?" He answered instinctively at Claude with a wink.

Claude didn't smile back. His face was neutral, and it was only a small twitch at his eyebrows that showed his discontentment. If Sylvain had really lost his mask for a second as he feared, then that wasn't the reaction he expected from the Golden Deer leader. Shouldn't there be triumph? Or at least satisfaction?

For the past months, he had tried to get a rise out of Claude, only for him to turn the tables on him every time. Sylvain hated that. He knew he was good at conversation, at not losing his cool, at ending any discussion on top even when it felt like he had lost. Yet somehow, when he was talking with Claude, everything left him. As if his brain had disappeared from his head, replaced by red hot emotions that stopped him from thinking. And everytime it was a slippery rope.

Where had this one landed him?

He wanted to leave and it was only the tattered remnants of his pride that kept him and his easy fake smile in place.

"I swear," Claude groaned, "what is it with you Faerghus people and self-worth?"

Sylvain blinked. A snapping, teasing answer was on the tip of his tongue. Claude cut him off before it left his mouth.

"Do not even try. We both know I can match your bullshit anyday and that was _not_ my intention this time. Where does your brain usually go, that you would immediately drown into some kind of existential crisis? I'm going to be mad the day I meet your parents, won't I?"

Sylvain almost answered that he'd probably never. But that was wrong, wasn't it? After all, Claude was going to be the Alliance’s leader one day, it definitely wasn't impossible that he'd meet Kingdom lords.

"What I meant," Claude said jabbing his finger in his chest, "is that Felix likes people like us. People who challenge him. You know that, you _must_ know that. Yes, you've been his friend for a long time, it's probably part of why he cares for you so much. But he likes people who force him to think on his feet, who force him to learn. Because he likes learning, because learning makes him get better. So yes. I am teaching him how to use a bow in battle, because it will help him get better. And no, he doesn't intend to try the lance, you should know that and you should know why. Also, yes, right now he isn't at the training grounds, and not because I somehow convinced him to take it easy or something, but because part of his new training regimen involves another place that is called ’ _wherever Dorothea finds fit to tutor him in Reason_ ’."

Reason? Now Sylvain could have laughed it off and said it made sense, he probably should have. But he also knew an obvious joke when he saw one and could not resist.

"Wow, are you saying that Felix isn't reasonable?"

"He definitely doesn't seem to think he is," Claude answered, unamused, "according to Lysithea's first lessons, most of his failures in this domain are due to self sabotage. Behind it, believe it or not, but there's apparently a lot of raw potential."

"Really?"

"Her words, not mine. Or maybe she was talking about cake. I personally gave up on all and every magic a long time ago. It never was instinctual enough."

His stare was still serious as he looked Sylvain over apprehensively.

"Are you okay?" he asked bluntly.

There was no way he was fooling Claude. There was no way he was answering sincerely either.

"Never better!" he laughed.

"As long as you're not having another meltdown on me, I guess it'll be enough. I'm unfortunately not your babysitter."

"I'm... wait, unfortunately?"

"So I guess I'm going to get Ingrid, who I know had to complete your chores, those Dimitri and you didn’t do, and tell her where you are. If you're lucky, she'll even get mad enough at me for existing that she'll forget about arguing with you. Aren't I such a good friend?"

Sylvain wasn't sure exactly how Claude left with that, as if he had just breezed through him like an untamed wind. He remembered staring at the doors he'd closed behind him, flabbergasted and unsure about how to proceed next. He wandered a bit, aimlessly, in the quasi deserted grounds, wondering if he was serious, if he should really wait for Ingrid or simply leave. After ten minutes, he decided staying here was useless and wouldn’t help him feeling less out of his depth.

He didn’t have time to. Ingrid was entering when he tried leaving. Her face was red, as if she had just gotten really angry. She looked up at Sylvain, her brow severe in expression.

"Have you caused an international incident?" she asked immediately.

"I don't know, I don't think so." he answered. "Have you?"

"... Come on, I have some chores left. You’d better follow me, Professor Hanneman will kill us if we skip them."

Horses.

Of course Ingrid had saved the horses for last, they were her favourite part. And his too, so he wasn't complaining. The amazing yet sad part was that being so late also meant they weren't alone, as the other students in charge of this chore usually took their sweet time joining them. Petra and Ferdinand were working together on one side, while Ignatz and Flayn were on the other. Both duos were having light-hearted conversations that definitely seemed to beat Ingrid's nagging. He had committed the horrendous mistake of mentioning one of his recent conquests and she hadn't stopped ever since. 

"Oh, hi Petra!" he exclaimed, hoping to distract her.

It worked all too well, Ingrid suddenly flushed, turning towards her girlfriend. The princess smiled, these small adorable smiles of hers, and welcomed her. As Ingrid went towards the horses she needed to take care of, with one last glare at Sylvain, they started talking softly, too softly for Sylvain to hear them. They were adorable, he thought with a smirk, electing to go near Ferdinand to bother him. Neither of them had ever spoken much, the fact that Ferdinand was friends with _Lorenz_ of all people had been deterrent enough. But clearly, the man knew how to handle a horse. The hay in the stalls was entirely clean and new, having been changed recently.

"Looking good," Sylvain greeted him, "you've already done most of the work here."

"Ah, yes!" Ferdinand answered joyfully. "Petra and I are an efficient team when it comes to horses."

"I see that. Didn't expect that of you to be honest."

Prim and proper little noble Ferdinand who spent too much time lecturing people about how they ought to make tea of all things. No he didn't imagine him the type to get down and dirty, kneeling in animal shit. Ferdinand gave him a knowing look before putting a brush in his hand.

"Help me give these beauties a good brush instead of judging me."

"I am not judging you."

"Please," Ferdinand scoffed, sounding genuinely amused, "I've been judged my whole life, I know how it looks in someone's eyes. And even with how little we've talked, I know you don't really have a high opinion of me."

Okay, showing the whole plate then. He could work with that too.

"It's no fault of your own," Sylvain laughed as he started brushing the horses, "but you're friends with Lorenz. And I don't know if you've heard, but him and me? Yeah, not a good combination."

Sylvain didn't remember ever seething as hard as during their little shit show of a competition to see who could get a girl to fall for one of them the sooner. That hadn't been a fun time, really not.

Ferdinand sighed.

"Honestly," he said, voice reproachful, "while I can understand those who would find Lorenz's way of approaching women distasteful, I at least know that his reasons for doing so are good at heart."

Good at heart, right. He was actually trying to search a good noble wife just like Sylvain had been instructed to. And he didn't even see anything wrong with it. Good at heart, what a joke!

"Are you implying that mine aren't?"

Ferdinand looked at him for a second, his eyes glinting.

"I think you'll find out that no one thinks they are."

Ouch that hurt. Probably because he wasn't wrong. His intentions when it came to girls were mostly… having fun, then panicking if one wanted more because no one wanted him for who he was anyway, and then breaking their hea-ambitions. Their ambitions. He honestly didn’t think he was hurting any of them, it was his title they wanted, not him as a person. Let him have freedom and power over his own body and relations, even if it meant seeming awful at times, it wasn't like he could stay that way for much longer.

"Well my seduction methods work better anyway."he said boldly before winking, a joke. "I bet you I could get you in my bed if I tried."

Ferdinand laughed, as if he actually found the joke funny and okay, maybe he wasn't that bad. It didn't sound mocking, just genuinely amused.

"I'd rather not," he said, rosy cheeks and all, "but in case you really want to try, you'll have to offer me some amazing tea if you want me to risk Felix's wrath."

Right, the two sparred a lot. Sylvain changed horses, he only had one left to do on this side.

"Ha, don't worry, it's me he'll be angry at!"

"Not if Hubert kills you first."

Hubert? When was he part of the conversation? His surprise must have shown on his face because Ferdinand flushed and turned away sharply and oh! Wait, what? How? When?

Ferdinand and _Hubert_?

That didn't make sense, like saying that a Dandelion had fallen in love with a skull. How the hell had that happened?

... How many other strange little couples existed that he had no idea of?

The silence between them was heavy and so embarrassed, it felt like dying. Sylvain cleared his throat, hoping to dissipate the weight in the air.

"Well that was awkward," he decided to laugh it off, "sorry for that."

"It's no problem," Ferdinand answered, ever so polite.

The silence was still far too tense, and Sylvain took the first opportunity to trot to the other side of the stables, where Flayn and Ignatz were still speaking, all nice and innocent like the sweet kids they were. There'd be no surprises of innocent sunshines dating brooding assholes in secret here, and... what was Ignatz doing?

"You were full of divine dignity, and your silhouette was so elegant, as perfect as a statue!" the bespectacled teen was saying, his eyes bright and his smile awed. "For one second, you were like a Saint made flesh! You were wondrous!"

And Flayn, cute, giggly and innocent Flayn, was smiling, face red but overjoyed.

"Oh, I see! Might you tell me more. Who did I remind you of?"

"Well," Ignatz blushed, hiding his face behind the neck of the horse he was taking care of, "Saint Cethleann, with no hesitation. Beautiful and kind, but not devoid of some kind of youthful energy. She was no warrior like Seiros, but a healer, a being of pure gentleness. And... That's what I saw, in that moment, when you smiled and comforted me. Flayn, you really are a sight to behold."

"Kind and beautiful, huh?" Flayn giggled.

What was that? What was Sylvain seeing? Was Ignatz... _flirting_?

No, no, that couldn't be. Ignatz's earnest face and excited smile showed he thought every word he was speaking, rather innocently too. And yet Flayn, innocent, overprotected Flayn, was blushing red with happiness, enjoying every second of the praise, likely already planning their honeymoon.

Sylvain stayed away, listening to Ignatz's devoted blabbering and Flayn's flattered answers. Even as it turned on a History lesson on Saint Cethleann (and huh, Flayn seemed to know quite a bit about her), he listened, trying to get his mind around it. What was that, just now? How was Ignatz so... _smooth_? That small innocent-faced boy had just _accidentally_ picked up a girl so easily? Sylvain was feeling almost disgusted, jealous. Not the all-encompassing jealousy he felt towards Claude, no, but something else, more on surface, more... petty in some way.

The moment he and Ingrid were done, he left, feeling almost sick and offended.

"What's wrong?" Ingrid asked him. She was smiling, spending time with Petra had done her good. Good for her, at least one of them was happy.

"I hate the Golden Deer," was all he answered.

"Hear hear," Ingrid agreed without even knowing what he was talking about.

After a few seconds of hesitation, she added:

"... Yuri is a very good cook, though? I mean, what he made two days ago was delicious."

And damn attractive too. He almost sighed, thinking about the young man's enigmatic smiles and cute winks. Not the only man Sylvain was realizing he was desperately attracted too, but one of the few he'd admit to admire without any hesitation.

"Let's say he's not a real Golden Deer," he said out loud.

"Works for me."

It felt good to agree with his childhood friend for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignatz's supports always crack me up because he seriously doesn't realize how much game he has xD I have been joking about Sylvain being jealous of him for a long time because of that.  
> In general, Sylvain has A LOT of my favourite support chains that only reach to B, so I made sure to reference a few here. They're just so funny! And while I'll forever be salty that Dimitri and Sylvain are the only ones of the Faerghus Four who can't reach more than B rank, I comfort myself with how hilarious their support chain and their _task conversations_ are! They're probably the most light-hearted relationship out of the four of them and it was nice to write them :)  
> I also feel like I should warn that there are only three flashback chapters left in that story! But what that means is that as we're getting done with the flashback chapters, the focus between present characters is progressively going to shift instead of being predominantly about Judai.  
> In any case, maybe not the chapter everyone was waiting for after 10 days, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway!


	20. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judai witnesses an argument, talks about himself, and has to fight his fears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I said Chapter 19 would come soon, yeah, I meant it. Not sure when Chapter 20 will come tbh, because I have quite a few changes to make and I've barely started the next chapter I need to write, but at least I'm not leaving you too long on a flashback chapter that doesn't advance the plot x)  
> There is a bit of discussion about Faith in the chapter. I really like the multitude of interpretations there are of the Goddess' faith in the game (Mercedes and Marianne, to take two of the more devout characters in the game, have very different interpretations of the Goddess for exemple) and that is what I based that scene on! (I also find hilarious how all the different takes of the Goddess are incredibly far from the real deal, a.k.a a gremlin that lives inside Byleth's head xD)  
> Anyway, this happens right after chapter 17!

**Chapter 19**

_Screaming at the ones we love_

_Like we forgot who we can trust_

_Screaming at the top of our lungs_

_On the grounds where we feel safe_

**30th day of the Lone Moon, Imperial Year 1185**

**Judai**

"Excuse me _what_?"

Judai flinched. Felix's tone was stone cold, anger brimming in his voice. With just three words, it was obvious how much he was seething in pure rage and Judai was kind of really happy not to be the target of that anger right now.

Rodrigue, however, didn't seem fazed. Likely it wasn't the first time he was on the other side of that frozen fury. And honestly, Judai understood Felix. Yeah, he too would probably be mad in his place. Still didn't feel good.

"We cannot call Leicester allies in good faith," Rodrigue repeated slowly, "we found ourselves in the middle of lordly disputes and can barely use self defence as a justification after entering their lands with no authorization. Even if our positions in this war are aligned, the tension is too hard to gauge to ensure we can actually ally with them."

"That's horseshit."

Seriously, Judai kind of wanted to get out of here. Why had he followed when Felix had decided to tell his father of the march on Myrddin bridge?

" _Because you were worried about that exact situation?_ " Yubel suggested.

Right. Great. Look where that brought him, he wasn't sure they even remembered he was here...

"By that point," Rodrigue was explaining, "the best we can do is try not to harm each other. We should avoid Leicester military bases and bring our fight somewhere else. The ideal would have been to push back against the Dukedom and force the Empire to fight on two fronts..."

Felix scoffed, arms crossed as if to stop himself from howling.

"Not an option anymore. He won't let us turn back."

And they wouldn't leave him behind. Rodrigue nodded, face sad and weary.

"No indeed. I'm thinking up a way to go through Ordelia territory and then Hrym..."

Felix hit the table with his fist. It cracked under his strength and Judai winced. Yikes.

"Why won't you people think about making one good strategic decision in your life," the young man spat, "I can’t believe every single lord agreed to that. You're all ready to follow him in the eternal flames! Or was it you who convinced them?"

"Felix," Rodrigue started scowling.

"Do not even try! We both know the reason you're bending over backwards like that is to accommodate yourself. To make sure you don't have to bend the knee to another."

Well that was escalating quickly. Rodrigue's face had gone from angry to offended yet defeated in one small second. Judai moved forwards, not sure how he could intervene.

"Felix, you know it's not the issue here! His highness is not able to..."

"To what? Engage in an alliance? You don't need him for that. In fact, you wouldn't even hesitate if it didn't imply having to follow orders from someone else! If it was us, down in Garreg Mach, and them here in the Alliance, you would have already sent a messenger! But no, no you won't."

Oh damn, Felix's fists were shaking.

"Felix," Judai started slowly. The young man wasn't listening.

"Is the idea of not following someone who is not a crazed beast deaf to words that don't speak of violence so disgusting to you?!"

Defeat had left its place to dismay on Rodrigue's face. He looked so pained. Judai wanted to comfort him. He also wanted to comfort Felix. There was a lot here that he didn’t know, there was no doubt about it. But there was also no doubt that both were hurting and he didn’t know if he should take a side.

" _Great news, I'm still terrible with words!_ " And great news, even his mental voice sounded panicked.

" _Don't ask me,_ " Yubel hissed, " _I'm worse than you are!_ "

"Please Felix," Rodrigue begged, "you know that's not the issue here."

"Yes it is! It is him. It's always been him and that damn loyalty you have to him that are the problem!"

"You're being unreasonable."

"Am I really? Then tell me, honestly, that you'd do the exact same thing were it not for him. If we had left him back at Fraldarius."

Rodrigue stayed silent. There was nothing else to say. Felix scoffed, bitterness fighting with disgust on his face.

"Put him down, if he's holding us back so much." he growled. "That'd probably save more people than whatever debt you think you owe a dead man."

He stormed out, his feet heavy, almost stomping. Judai stared at his back, wondering if he should follow or not. After a few seconds, Rodrigue let himself fall on his seat, looking unbearably exhausted. Judai hesitated, and then sat in front of him.

"Hey," he said slowly, "are you alright, my lord?"

Rodrigue cracked a small smile, pained but thankful for his concern.

"I will be," he sighed, "it's not the first time we've had this argument."

Judai nodded. Yeah, he could believe that. Still, it wasn't good for either of them to keep going like that. It was war, he thought with a pang in his chest, tensions were already running high. This really wasn't the time.

"I think I didn't get some of the points made. Why is it impossible to ally with the Alliance exactly? I believe we established that their lords are fickle, the kind who'd forget our transgression in exchange for a few favours. And Claude von Riegan seems a practical man, not one who would throw away our help."

"I know," Rodrigue sighed again, "and Felix is right in that His Highness is one of the main reasons I didn't reach out for them."

"What do you mean?"

Rodrigue fiddled with his cape for a second, likely trying to express his point in concise terms. Good thing too, despite how focused he was trying to be, Judai was still vibrating, mind jumping between where he currently was and whatever sanity he had left behind when confronted to the battlefield. He had managed not to think too much about it, it was easier when there was stuff happening in front of you. But right now, he was just waiting and it was... not as easy.

"His Highness' current state of mind would make us unable to hold any terms with Leicester," Rodrigue ended up admitting, "if his orders contradicted our alliance with them, our lords would follow him before Von Riegan without any hesitation. And because of that, we wouldn’t manage to keep up with their plans. From what we've seen, Leicester has been applying careful, measured strikes. Almost chirurgical, only fighting when absolutely necessary and with the minimum means they can spare. That's, let's say it bluntly, not really our style."

Yeah no kidding. Not that Judai was blaming them, he had never really been a master at subtlety himself.

"Basically, with how unable we'd be to work together," Rodrigue finished, "an alliance would lead to mutual destruction. Trying to stay out of each other's way and fight the Empire on different fronts is our best solution. If Felix had left me time to explain, I would have told him I intended to send a message to Garreg Mach anyway, not for an alliance, but to agree not to fight each other. That would be a start..."

Judai groaned. He understood. He understood completely, it didn't mean he had to like it.

"Still, that's why no army should depend on just one leader." He grumbled.

"It usually doesn't," Rodrigue smiled sadly, "but Faerghus is in such disarray right now that our lords are feuding as much as Alliance ones. His Highness, Dimitri, he's the one who rallied them, however unintentionally."

"So we can’t have him stand down, because then all the lords fall apart."

"Indeed, and not just the lords. Good tactics and troops are important to win a war, that's true, but another thing is vital, and that is morale."

"... Are you saying that Dimitri boosts morale?"

Dimitri? Caveman Dimitri who looked like he'd murder anyone who stared at him the wrong way? Dimitri who Judai had to stop from rushing into battle to kill anyone on his way? Dimitri who Judai cared about, but who looked like a hopeless endeavour when Judai was having a bad day?

"Our lost prince," Rodrigue answered softly, "returned from the dead after five years. Undefeated on the battlefield, seemingly impossible to kill. I don't think anyone except maybe the Archbishop could raise morale as high as he does just by being there. You are making good progress, I’ve noticed, especially with your performance during the last battle, but it’ll take more time if we want you to be influential enough to overrule him."

Judai hummed, thinking about it. It made an awful lot of sense. He decided to avoid thinking about the last part, his chest tight just remembering what it meant.

"So Felix is both right and wrong," he said.

"As humans often are," Rodrigue answered, standing up, "he is also right in that my feelings for Dimitri are a bit more personal and influence my decisions. His father... Our late king was a dear friend of mine. Before the day that sealed all of their fates, that terrible slaughter in Duscur, I made him a promise. That, were anything to happen to him, I'd take care of his son, that I'd lead him on the right path."

When Rodrigue passed a hand against his face, he looked older and more tired than ever.

"I'm still working on it, I never expected such events to take place... But it is true that I want to follow Dimitri not just as my prince, but also as someone dear to me, the son of my friend, another one of my children in a way. I want to be there for him, to help him without having to undermine him."

And Judai understood that, more than anything. And, he couldn't help but think, Felix understood that too. If not, he'd have already left for Garreg Mach, wouldn't he?

Judai nodded.

"So we stall for time until we manage to have Dimitri get his head out of his ass," he summarized, "that's a nice plan, I just have one small issue with it."

"Do tell me."

There was no nice way to say it.

"Your faith in Dimitri's ability to get out of that darkness is beautiful, honestly. But while I know he’s not entirely lost, I'm not sure I share it."

Rodrigue looked surprised, but Judai didn't stop, crossing his fingers, staring in front of him.

"I know it by experience. Getting rid of these kinds of voices, impulses and darkness? It's hard. It's always hard. And the war is making things worse. We are in the worst possible situation to help him get better."

"Well that's dire news."

Judai jumped, turning violently. Right by the door of the place where they had set their small private shelter to talk, there was a woman that Judai _should_ have heard, but hadn't, focused as he was on what Rodrigue was saying.

"Miss Manuela?"

"Ah, Manuela, my lady," Rodrigue smiled as if all of his joy in life had come back to him, "it is good to see you."

The lady laughed softly. She was carrying a tray full of tea cups. The way she handled them to Rodrigue before pecking him on the lips was tender, careful. Oh. Well, Judai had _not_ noticed that before. He probably should have.

"Did you make that tea?" Rodrigue teased.

"Please," the lady said with a huff, "I spiked it once, and it's like all of you can't let me live it down!"

She had a sing-song voice and her heavily painted eyes were light, but there was a weary effort in her stance, as if she was deeply exhausted. She was a nurse, Judai knew even though he never ended up in her infirmary. It was easy to see why she'd feel so tired...

"In truth, I felt a bit nauseous. So I didn't want to drink it alone," she admitted. "Will the two of you join me? Or do you have important depressing conversations to have that I shouldn’t be privy to?"

Rodrigue and Judai exchanged a glance and figured another point of view was always welcome.

"We were worried about His Highness," Rodrigue told his lady softly as she poured the tea, "not that this shall surprise you."

"It does not," she nodded, giving Judai a cup, "I know I am a nurse and a devout, but I am no priestess who studied illnesses of the mind. We need to figure out how to help him, and I feel like none of us are qualified to do that."

"That is the problem, isn't it?" Rodrigue added, fiddling with his tea cup. "We are all out of our depths here."

They were. Judai's hand was shaking as he stared at the cup.

"Getting him out of this war is the best we could do," he said bluntly, "but he's not going to listen if we ask him."

"I don't think he will indeed," Rodrigue admitted, "and even if he wanted to, we established earlier why this wouldn't be possible."

"Yes, I know. I just... I just don't know what I can do. I don't think anything I'm doing can actually help him."

Except stopping him from going too far, he didn't know what he could do. Because everytime he thought about how he had gotten out of the dark, he shivered and wanted to sob. Because everytime he thought of all that was lost just trying to shake him out of his mad rage, he couldn't help but be seized by horror and think that surely there _must_ have been another way, any other way that wouldn't have asked for such sacrifices.

Rodrigue was looking at him, eyes soft but sad.

"My friend," he said with a smile, "what I hear is not that you lack faith in His Highness. It's that you lack faith in your ability to help him."

"I do." he admitted with a wince. "More than anything. I've never been good at helping people. I've tried, the Gods know I've tried. But I always seem to make a mess of things. I'm almost scared to try here. The only times I've ever been useful were when the problem could be dealt with by throwing brute force at it."

Throwing brute force at illnesses of the mind. Not a good idea. Let's not try it.

"You are not alone," Manuela reminded him, "it's not just you who wants to help His Highness here."

"Right." It had never changed much before. Maybe it was self-centered of him, maybe because for most of his life, people had expected him to deal with everything that plagued them.

He didn't think others could help, he realized with dismay, and he hated that. Where had his faith in others gone?

"My friend," Rodrigue said again, smiling, "something tells me you've led a pretty lonely life. But please, remember something."

"What?" he mumbled.

"Remember that you don't see everything. Believe me, you're doing a lot more than you think. Do not underestimate yourself."

Judai nodded, feeling choked up. Rodrigue had enough faith for the both of them it seemed, he'd have burst out crying if he had felt enough energy for it.

"Today was just a skirmish," Manuela said, somber, "there is no way we won't have to fight again. I fear this may make things worse for him. That boy, he used to hate battle and death... I weep when I see what life has pushed him to become."

She took a sip and let her eyes fall on Judai.

"Which leads me to you, dear."

Judai's heart skipped a beat. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what she meant.

"Why is that?"

"Really?" She asked with surprise. "You haven't heard anything?"

"About what?" He was nervous, Yubel's hand fell on his to stop him from fidgeting.

"The battle, dear. The battle. Everyone has been talking about you."

 _‘You left the battle unscathed’_ Felix had said. Judai bit his lip.

"I've been lucky enough to avoid wounds," he tried, "that can't have been that exceptional."

Rodrigue shook his head, looking somewhere between sad and amused.

"I watched over you during the battle," he said, voice warm and kind, "I don't think you've ever seen yourself fight. No blade hit you, my friend. And it was like the shadows of those who fought you turned against their owners. I asked you to stay near me so I could protect you, but I feel like you protected us a lot more than the other way around."

Wha... Had he really?

"Really?" He mumbled. "I'll admit the fighting was kind of a blur."

"Oh honey," Manuela smiled softly, "the stories Annette and Mercedes had about you impressed _Ingrid_. This is not an easy feat, and I think that were you to talk to the mages that fought by your side, they'd have as many compliments for you as my love, here, does."

"Is that so?" He really didn't like where this was going.

"Don't you look so worried," she laughed, "if anything it confirms what we already suspected."

"And what was that?"

"Well, your divine nature." She said as if it was obvious.

Judai's heart skipped a beat once again.

"I mean," she laughed, "you woke up in a tomb similar to the one belonging to the Goddess, you come from a time when she walked among men, Sylvain and the others said you had completely shocked reactions to the crests - which we know as divine powers - as in you're surprised to see humans wielding them, and so many other things that implied you were at the very least a holy being, whether a Saint or an Apostle."

Seeing as the Saints were the children of the Goddess, they were closer than they thought from the very beginning.

"So you figured I was some kind of God," he said, sitting against the back of the chair, "and you don't see anything wrong with that? I thought your scriptures only mentioned the Goddess."

"The scriptures ask us to revere and worship the Goddess, to thank her for the good she gave us." Rodrigue answered calmly. "It never says other Gods do not exist."

That was one way to look at it.

"You have a pretty relaxed way of looking at Faith," he laughed, "I won't lie, I kind of like it."

"Faith is however you perceive it, my friend. It is flexible by nature."

Yubel had been right, as always. Judai sipped his tea for a bit, a quiet admittance.

"Everyone jokes about how I shouldn't mention being anything like the Goddess," he said with an amused smile, "that I'll be tried for heresy if I keep going. And yet, we have the most powerful man in the Holy Kingdom asking me about it?"

"When you see something that puts into question everything you assumed about your beliefs, the natural reaction shouldn't be to deny it, I think, but to think about what it changes and if it matters. As I mentioned, I do not believe that the presence of other Gods overshadows the Goddess's importance for us."

He was right, Judai felt in his heart. Out of all the Gods, Sothis was by far the one who had done the most for this world. Knowing others existed didn’t change that fact. And so he smiled.

"When you started this conversation, did you hope to learn more about me, or more about the Goddess?"

"More about the world, I guess," Manuela laughed, "but I am partial to the Goddess, so I'll admit I wouldn't mind knowing more about her, how she was perceived in your time for example."

Yubel protested when he put down the cup, they were enjoying the warm beverage more than him. He mentally promised more to them.

"There's a lot to say. Where would you like me to start?"

"According to Sylvain, you mentioned her walking among mortals. I was wondering about that."

"Ah. Yes she was. Her and her children, the protectors of humanity. She always said you couldn't protect people if you didn't live among them."

"Which makes one wonder why she disappeared," Rodrigue mused, "you have no idea, I guess?"

"No, she was still here when I went to sleep. However, she wasn’t as revered back then. She was loved and so were her children, but... it wasn't that kind of worship, if it makes sense."

"It is weird for me to imagine a world where the Goddess isn't worshipped," Manuela admitted with a frown, "maybe she ran because of the attention?"

Judai would have definitely understood if that was what had happened, but somehow he doubted it. His theory, that Sothis was still sleeping away her fatigue after healing the earth, was more likely, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up.

"What about the other Gods?" Rodrigue asked in a light tone.

No matter how light the tone, Judai could feel the atmosphere get heavier the moment the words had left his mouth. While he could believe that Manuela had wanted to know more about Sothis above anything else, it seemed that _this_ was where the Lord's curiosity laid.

"There were many Gods in my time," he admitted, "mostly they represented concepts, forces of nature, opposing each other."

He could see it in his head, the battles, desperate and numbing, the pain and the joy, every war more deadly than the last despite their best efforts. Gods fighting, so many times...

"Ruin," he started, "Creation, Hope, Nihilism... Light and Darkness, both good and bad. Everything went in pairs. Sothis was the Universe's Light of Hope. The one who healed and governed over Time. Her and Hers, they created guardians for this world, by revealing the true form of their souls."

Yubel's arms were surrounding him as always. They had been the first, even before Sothis had called for help. The first to take that form. And the sacrifices it had asked of them...

He raised a hand to rest against theirs, even immaterial as they were.

"Back in my time," he said, not daring to look at Rodrigue and Manuela's faces, "most people learnt how to be summoners. We asked help from spirits, souls whose body had departed from this world but who had stayed there, until progressively, they took their real appearance. We learnt how to bring them onto the mortal plane once more and how to make them fight. They did it gladly too, most of them happy to busy their endless wandering with a bit of action."

Some had wondered where they came from. Theories said spirits erred all around them, floating, minding their own business until some human decided to call for them. Very few could see them and verify just how true that was. Even Judai had only known three people who could. Johan. Manjoume. Himself. There was a bit of nuance between ghosts and spirits, but Judai couldn’t explain what it was. He hadn’t been listening when class was talking about that...

"Summoning..." Rodrigue's voice brought him back to the present. "Do you think you'd be able to summon spirits again, here?"

Oh, Rodrigue. His spirits never left him. Those who had sworn allegiance to him, those who had decided to stay by his side, ever silent, but supportive, helping him feel less alone when everything was awful.

"Right now," Judai admitted, "I'm weak. Incredibly weak. When Dimitri woke me up, I still wasn't entirely healed I think. My powers are slow to come back. I haven't tried to bring a spirit to the real world yet, and I'm not sure I'd be able to."

He was pretty sure he wouldn't, in fact. Or he would already have had Yubel here, ready to embrace him and hug his anxiety away.

For someone who had had issues with physical contact for years, he felt incredibly touch starved, these days.

Rodrigue nodded gravely, and so did Manuela. Judai hadn't answered all of their questions, not really. They looked satisfied enough.

"Now that all of this has been established," Manuela hummed, "do any of you think Felix had time to cool off? Whatever decision you took, it seems like it wasn't unanimous. I saw him when I was coming here and he looked down, in his usual angry way. Pretty hurt too, not that I blame him. The situation must be painful to bear... At least Ingrid doesn't risk meeting her own friends for the moment so there's that."

And Judai didn't know Ingrid had friends... in the Alliance? That was how he understood things, but something sounded wrong about it.

"Ingrid has friends in the Alliance too?"

"Not the Alliance, no," the nurse said slowly, "her friends live in the Empire."

Oh.

That was kind of worse in a way and Judai winced. Rodrigue stared at his cup, still full, mournfully. He hadn’t taken even a sip.

"You two argued again," Manuela sighed, "I knew I should have asked him to join us for tea as a peace offering."

"It would not have worked," Rodrigue smiled weakly, "while Mint Tea is delicious, you would have needed Almyran Pine for him to accept."

"Still," Manuela insisted, "I know tensions are high, but you two should try to make up. Sure, the two of you will never see eye to eye on some matters, but this anger will lead you nowhere."

"I'm not angry at him. I haven't been in a long time."

"If it doesn’t bother you to tell me," Judai tried, unsure about interrupting them, "how long has this been going on?"

Rodrigue's face was pained.

"Too long," he admitted, "I fear I may have only noticed the part I played in Felix's resentment too late. Well... no, I had noticed it had made him angry. But I expected him to grow up and change his mind. It was only recently that I realized how much the words I pronounced when his brother died hurt him, and by then, it was too late."

Manuela poured him another cup, replacing the one he hadn’t touched and that was now cold. He smiled at her in thanks.

"With that realization in mind, it dawned on me how horrible it was for him. He hates me for it and I cannot blame him. It shows that no matter your age, you always have to learn. Words that will comfort one person will only wound another, and my absence after said loss didn't help either. I fear I make a poor father, unable to take notice of the suffering of my boys until it’s too late..."

But he was trying, at least, Judai thought. And just for that, it made him better than Judai's own parents. He wondered how many people he considered ‘his boys’... Dimitri and Felix, for sure, but was Sylvain part of it too?

"People are faillible," Judai hummed before finishing his own cup of tea, "I'm sure the two of you will be able to make up once the fighting is over. Have you apologized to him?"

"I have tried to. You've seen my son." Rodrigue smiled again, still weak, but slightly amused. "He's not a man that cares for words when it comes to sincerity, he likes action better. It is hard for me to show him how sorry I am when I have to stand against him everyday about a subject we disagree vehemently about."

Point made.

"Try to tell him anyway," he suggested, "that will be a start." Just like that message to the Alliance.

Though he didn't expect Felix to answer in kind anytime soon. He stood from the table.

"I'm going to check on him, if you don't need me anymore. I’ll make sure he doesn't hurt himself trying to work out his anger."

"Please do," Rodrigue sighed, "please do."

Felix was training. What else. Footwork fluid and blade elegant, the wooden post he was working against not standing a chance. He already looked calmer than he had earlier, his eyes focused in a practiced way. Judai wondered how many times he had spent his frustrations on beating up inanimate objects or willing but unfortunate partners. Well, if it worked for him. Judai was more of a fishing enthusiast himself.

He kind of wished there was a pond not too far from here, where he could relieve the tension and forget about the battle from earlier. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be time for this kind of frivolity right now...

"Hey there," he greeted Felix.

The young man stopped destroying the poor wooden post and barely turned his head. He looked tense, but yes, most of the anger seemed gone. Good. Well… As long as it wasn't replaced by emptiness, it was good.

Judai really wished he could see what the young man was thinking at the moment, because he had a bad feeling about his mental state.

Well, he had a bad feeling about everyone's mental state to be honest. Gods, he hoped the Light wouldn’t decide it was the right time to notice them, it'd have a field day with his band of merrymen...

"Take a sword and change up."

Felix's voice tore him from his musings. The man was stretching, but his eyes looked resolved.

"Sorry?"

"You told me why you wanted to learn dancing. We're not moving for a few hours. Change up and take a sword."

"Oh. Sure!"

Well that beat having to explain to him all he had talked about with Rodrigue. Judai had the feeling Felix didn't want to think about it anymore, anyway. It was an argument the two of them seemed to have a lot.

Maybe he should still tell him about the message they would send? Or he should let Rodrigue say it, that could work as an opening for that apology...

Judai took the dancing outfit from his satchel and went beside a bush to change. As he took off his coat, something caught his eye.

Blackish red, sticky. Still slightly wet. Covering a good portion of it. He looked at it more closely. Iron invaded his nose and he let go of it with a gasp.

Blood.

His coat was covered in blood.

And now the hands that had taken it off were, too. Red. Blood. Sticky, and red and he couldn't breathe.

Yubel swore in his head but he could barely hear them as they told him not to look, to turn away, to calm down, he was fine, everyone was fine it was over, it was over, it was...

A bucket of water was shoved in front of him and someone grabbed his hands, pushing them into the water. Red rivulets started floating around.

"Wash them." Felix's voice ordered him.

Judai obeyed without thinking, staring down, rubbing his hands until all the red was gone. Even when Felix took away the bucket, he didn't raise his head, not wishing to see the coat. _Where had this attack come from?_ he wondered as his heart tried desperately to calm down, his breath coming back in small huffs. _He had already seen blood, earlier, it wasn't the first time, so why? Why now? What was wrong with him?_

"I swear," Felix was mumbling, more to himself than Judai, "you're just like Hevring."

He threw the outfit at him, a brisk gesture that couldn’t hide how he took away the coat so Judai wouldn’t have to see it.

"Just dress up," he huffed before leaving.

Judai stayed unmoving for a few seconds, trying to regain his bearings. Yubel came closer tentatively, like tendrils of shadows touching his soul, comforting.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, "just... taken by surprise I guess."

He hadn't prepared himself to see blood. There was a time where this wouldn't have fazed him at all. He honestly didn't miss those times.

He put the outfit on as quickly as he could, chasing all thoughts from his head, only focusing on Yubel's comforting hums. When he came out, he knew he was more stone-faced than usual, but he didn't feel the strength to fake a smile.

Felix didn't seem to see his freak out as any reason to go easy on him and Judai was grateful for that. Since the dancer was the one giving energy to the fighter, he needed to watch out for his own limitations. A dancer too exhausted to dance was a dancer too exhausted to fight. A dancer who couldn't fight anymore was an easy prey and a burden.

"So you’d better know your own limits and not collapse right in the middle of the battlefield."

Judai nodded, moving how he was instructed to. He didn't have to say that his limits probably weren't the same as a normal human's. People either would figure it out or they wouldn't. He kind of hoped they wouldn't.

"Try to incorporate the sword."

Oh he tried. But it still felt wrong. The weight and length, all of it too compact. His displeasure must have been obvious, because Felix snorted.

"Urgh, how ridiculous did I look?"

"Very. You looked like you just came out of lance training and didn’t notice you had swapped weapons."

"I'm really used to more reach..."

"I figured. Glenn used to be the same."

Glenn. It had been a while since Judai had heard this name in a mouth that wasn't Dimitri's. Through trial and error he had figured the man was Felix's brother and that he was dead. Also that he was one of the ghosts haunting Dimitri which clearly wasn't a fun time. But that was all.

" _I wonder how much of Felix's antagonism towards Dimitri is due to Glenn?_ " Yubel hummed.

" _Not sure. Not sure I want to ask either._ "

"He used the lance?" Judai asked instead.

"Yes. He was good at it. Amazing, even."

"Huh. I've never seen you with a lance, I thought you'd want to spar with him."

"I'm atrocious with the lance."

Somehow, Judai doubted that would have been enough to deter him. From what he had seen, Felix was more of the stubborn type, to keep going even in front of obstacles. Felix corrected his stance, clicking his tongue.

"We'll have to find you Mortal Savant swords, they’d probably be better... You're an only child, aren't you?"

"Sure am."

"It's obvious."

"Why? Because I don't understand why you didn't pick up the lance too?"

"Siblings always get compared to one another. Even by people who don't intend to."

Oh. And Glenn was great with the lance. Yeah, that would have been betting on a losing horse fast, not good for a kid's self-esteem.

"I see."

He could see on Felix’s face that he seriously thought about leaving the conversation at that. And that he didn’t know himself why he kept going.

"That idiot, though. He saw me try my hand at the sword, despite everyone telling me that almost no one used swords as their main weapon in Faerghus, and decided he had to be a role model anyway. So he took it up too."

"That sounds like a disaster. What happened?"

"Well he was four years older than me. So he kept kicking my ass."

Judai winced and tried to move. A bit better, even if the sword still felt wrong. Felix stayed silent for a few seconds instead of commenting. When he spoke again, his voice was lower.

"He was great at everything he tried. A genius, really. And when he spoke, people couldn't help but listen, even when they hated what he had to say. Sometimes I wonder if, had he survived, we'd still be in this mess."

Well there it was. Judai tilted his head and closed his eyes.

"We tend to overestimate our dead quite a bit," he answered, "just like Gods. The moment someone is gone, they become something more in our heads."

"You've got that right," Felix mumbled before hitting his fingers, "not like that, what do you think you're holding? A fishing pole?"

If only.

"Say, Felix," Judai mumbled, "are the soldiers really speaking a lot about me? Because of the battle?"

"They do," he said bluntly before letting go, "try a hit."

There was still an unbalance, but the move was indeed a bit easier to make with that grip on his sword.

"We're not there yet," Felix mumbled, pensive, "how good are you at readjusting your grip in the middle of battle."

"I’m okay. You don't seem to be impressed," Judai snorted.

"I wasn't exactly looking at you when you fought." He rolled his eyes before instructing him to get to his starting stance. "I have no idea whether they're exaggerating or not."

Judai obeyed, getting ready to twirl around with the sword.

"I might have indeed used shadows against my enemies," he admitted, "I just didn't think anyone would notice. Flaunting my powers wasn't exactly my intention."

Felix shrugged.

"My professor once pierced through different dimensions to get out of some kind of magical prison. You'll have to do more than that to impress me."

His professor? Judai opened his mouth, stupefied and ready to question him. Piercing through dimensions wasn’t supposed to be a power that a mortal could wield, how was it possible...

"Get ready," Felix barked, not leaving him time, "now start. And try to change your grip with whatever feels more comfortable. We'll see if that works out."

Judai already felt exhausted when they finally left camp. He was glad not to have to ride a horse, because his thighs might not have endured. Refusal, full stop, no way am I moving further mister King of Shadows, they would have said. Instead they were just complaining loudly that he was asking too much of them.

" _Say, Yubel, why are those humans much more enduring than I am?_ "

" _Too much flight?_ " They suggested.

" _That can't be it, flying wears me out._ "

" _Maybe you're just lazy, then._ "

He shoved them mentally and they laughed. Their laughter felt warm, and he couldn't help but smile, exhaustion, horror and despair leaving him for a while.

Two days later, he learnt that it was a new year. The first day of the year 1186. No one had celebrated, no one had shown any indication that it was a day different than any other. No day held special significance when you were at war. Ingrid and Felix's birthday had gone by since he had been there, and he hadn't known either. It felt morose to realize it. Judai knew he would have taken any opportunity to celebrate anything, but at the same time, he already felt mentally exhausted and had only been there for a few months. After five years, who knew if he would still have held on.

The new year did bring a lull in the way they moved, however, and so did the ceaseless rains that forced them to stay put for full days at times. Unless they wanted to lose their energy, painfully walking through unfamiliar lands so muddy their wagons stayed stuck in place along with their food and other supplies... Then the sun came out again, and so did dry weather, allowing them to tentatively walk again and hunt more easily. They went slowly when leaving inhabited places, and then faster once they were further away. Contourning Gloucester's lands and not attracting too much attention also made them slow down more. To add to the matter, they were attacked. Twice. Bandits that saw them, stuck in the mud, and figured they'd be out of their depths and unable to fight. Little did they know mud wasn't much worse than snow when it fell as hard as it did during Faerghan winters.

For these fights, once more, Judai stayed with the mages, helping out and feeling sick, but not standing out as he had that first time. Still, there were pats on his shoulder and thanks and warm laughter from people he had helped, and it was almost enough to forget how ill the battlefield made him.

On the thirteenth day of the Great Tree Moon, they reached Ordelia. One week later, they stopped again, preparing to breach into Empire territories. Hrym had resisted Imperial rule for years even before the war, said war probably hadn't changed much about that. But while that meant the population might not be inclined to denounce them, it also meant that it was likely there would be troops, not waiting for them, but here to pacify the population, if it could be called like that. They stayed far from the towns for a while, staying near forests if they could, and avoiding open fields, hoping to avoid unnecessary conflicts.

Then their scouts came back with news of an Imperial force, staying right where they had planned to travel through. Apparently, they didn't know of their coming yet, they were here for other reasons, but it wouldn't take long for them to notice the Faerghan army. Their enemy had scouts too, and reports of their coming might go around, making moving far more difficult for them.

And that was why, his face grim, Rodrigue ordered them to march on.

They didn't even take time to organize, they just kept going as they had been, physical fighters rushing forwards to the front lines, making sure they'd protect the others from the brunt of the battle.

There was a camp of soldiers indeed, when they reached the place. It was preparing itself too, getting ready to fight. One could see how disorganized they were, how they hadn't planned on this, as taken by surprise as the Kingdom had been when news had come to them. It almost felt like two childhood enemies, bumping into each other at the corner of a hallway and staring for a few seconds due to surprise and distaste.

Then the first order to attack was sent.

It came from the Empire, weirdly enough. Judai’s brain barely managed to think that he had expected Dimitri to rush first, asking for blood and heads rolling. He was a close second, though, roaring an order that made the soldiers yell, rage and resolve colouring their voices and making the whole ground shake. Well, if Judai hadn't trusted Rodrigue's judgement about morale and Dimitri's charisma, he would have stood corrected here and now.

There had been no plan for battle as there had been back at Gloucester. It was a disorganized battalion scrambling to organize itself in front of a disorganized army that didn't even try to get organized. They just rushed, blades at the ready, as the healers and those supposed to watch over supplies stayed behind.

Judai followed Annette the moment he saw her running towards enemies, magic glowing at her fingertips.

And for the first time in battle, Judai danced.

Felix had actually explained the feeling of it pretty well. His strength was flowing through his body and leaving in the direction of his choice, boosting other people's own strength. The effect was immediate, soldiers around him fighting with renewed power. A man that had been hit and was dizzy stood back up with no effort, running down to fight once more. A lancer who felt winded after falling from her horse jumped into battle as if nothing had happened. And so Judai danced. Probably a lot more than Felix had advised him to, but that was to be expected. Judai wasn't human anymore after all, his limits weren't the same.

The moment he found his rhythm, he looked around. 

The first one he saw was Ingrid. She looked alright, riding Calisto, her creepy lance hitting enemies with a strength she did not seem to have. The Pegasus looked untouchable, dodging hit after hit with barely any effort. Judai had the feeling that avoiding arrows would have been harder, but it didn't seem like the enemy camp had prepared for Pegasus riders. Ingrid wasn't the only one currently causing a slaughter.

By her side, tag teaming their enemies, Judai could see Felix too, every bit as impressive and implacable as he was when training. His silver sword struck true with every hit, nothing ever touching him, and if an enemy fell back enough, there was lightning, coming out of his fingers and hitting anyway. Simplistic magic, but efficient all the same. There was a bow on his back too, but Judai didn't expect to see him use it there. He wouldn't need to.

"Judai!" Annette called out.

Right in time for him to avoid an Imperial soldier a nasty cut through the stomach. Instead, he twirled once, tripping him up with his shadow as he liked doing, and knocked him out without any hesitation.

"Thanks!" He said, but Annette was already focusing on her next enemy. She was a deadly whirlwind of magic, one that never stopped as long as she stayed by his side, and so he stepped forwards and started dancing again, to grant her more strength. Mercedes had stayed back, healing wounds with Lady Manuela, he remembered as he tried to figure out where each of those he would call his friends were.

Rodrigue fought on the front lines this time, sitting on top of his horse. His powerful magic kept lightening up the sky, it could have been beautiful, if only it wasn't such a death omen. It was easy to see where he was even as he danced, one just had to see that holy magic, shining bright, to know where he was decimating the enemy all by himself.

There was still Sylvain to find, he thought with a frown as he let his energy float towards Annette, who was sending wind spell after wind spell without stopping, her crest glittering, a reminder of Shou that kept feeling strangely comforting, a presence he was used to feeling, fighting by his side. Catching his breath for a second, he looked around for red hair and black armor.

He found him soon enough, standing on foot, on the ground instead of on his horse. His dreadful lance was in his hand, but he wasn't fighting at the moment. If anything, his eyes seemed to be searching around, the same way Judai was. And the way he grit his teeth when he found what he was looking for made Judai freeze.

He didn't have to turn to figure it out, but he turned anyway. Because if everyone else was accounted for, then the one person Judai hadn't worried about because there was always someone watching over him was alone.

And indeed, when he followed Sylvain's gaze, he saw Dimitri. He saw the hurricane of strength in the middle of a bloody tempest, Areadbhar dancing as surely as Judai had, both horrifying and beautiful in the sunlight as it shone. He was an awesome and awful sight at the same time. Then what was it that was worrying Sylvain so? If Dimitri was doing just fine, then...

It wasn't Dimitri, Judai realized as he looked just a bit further. It was the man walking towards him.

Prim and proper red armor, unruffled dirty blonde hair and an expensive looking axe. Despite his unrugged appearance, it wasn't that the man didn't seem to have experience.

It was that he looked like an officer. A leader of the army. Someone who either would give Dimitri trouble, or... Well, in any case, the angry but sure way he held himself as he broke into a run made it look like he thought he could fell the giant of a man.

Judai swore.

"Annette, can you hold them off, here?!"

"Go!" She answered without even looking, not even questioning what he was about to do.

Judai thanked her mentally and started running too, rushing towards the prince.

They were already locked into battle when he got to them. The young man was indeed a good fighter, wielding his axe as if it weighed nothing. Judai hesitated for a moment, wondering if he could intervene without getting hurt by either weapon. The other man's he didn't worry about much, but Areadbhar had reach, a lot of reach, and Judai didn't want to hurt Dimitri.

During that one moment of hesitation from Judai, the enemy commander committed one fatal mistake.

He started talking.

"A one-eyed devil," he hissed, "so it was you, who had been murdering Imperial officers, these last years."

"What of it?" Dimitri growled back, not caring much.

"Miserable wretch! Do you have no consideration for life?!"

Judai froze. And he could see in the way Dimitri moved that it had been the _worst_ thing the man could have said.

"Really?" Dimitri was smiling now. An ugly, seething smile, full of rage. "I could ask the same question of you, general!"

Areadbhar struck once, the flat of the blade hitting the enemy general, not hard enough to throw him to the side, but enough to unbalance him.

"A depraved beast like you," he kept going, his voice so angry it hurt, "dares talking about consideration for life?"

"I wouldn't expect a heartless monster like you to understand!"

Judai watched, unable to react as the words washed over him. A litany of hypocrisy that was making him sick to the stomach. Was this man _serious_?

"Maybe I am." And Dimitri was smiling again, almost laughing, a response that Judai couldn't blame him for, because who in their right mind could hear such words from those who had invaded their country and enslaved their people, and not lose their cool? "Maybe I am. But so are you, general."

He hit again, still with the flat of Areadbhar, just to unbalance his enemy.

"You are a monster," Dimitri growled, "you just somehow have convinced yourself that you weren't. A beast who believes himself a man. That's ridiculous."

The general hit next, Dimitri simply stepped aside, letting the axe tear through his cape. He was playing with him, Judai realized, like a cruel cat playing with a mouse. Anger had made him renounce his usual brutal but quick killing, he talked back instead.

"Tell me," he said as he grasped the man's forearm, "how many people has a general of your caliber killed already? How many of them begged for their life before you cut them down mercilessly? Will you pretend, even now, that you have done no wrong?"

"That's different!" The man protested, ripping his arm away and raising his axe again. "This is war! What I'm doing, I do for the Empire, for the people... for my family!"

Right. Because you always had to be more justified in what you did than you enemies. Because your enemies were monsters for doing the same thing you did, but you weren't a monster yourself, no, you were a hero for doing these things. It was all so easy to think that way, but even in his youth, Judai knew he hadn’t managed to keep believing things were so black and white for long. Five years of war, how did that man manage to have so little self-awareness he still thought that way?

He shook himself, fury in his blood, but knowing he had to stop what was going to happen. Funny how he had come here to protect Dimitri from his enemies in case there was a need for it. Instead, it was protecting Dimitri from himself that he would need to do. Areadbhar threw the enemy general on the ground this time.

"You are piling up bodies," Dimitri said, voice so calm it was eerie, "building up a world of corpses and suffering, all for 'the people' and family. I am doing the same for the dead's peace of mind. But in the end, both of our actions are as monstrous as the other one's. Do not close your eyes to the fact. We are both murderers, assassins, _monsters_."

With his foot, he pressed on the general's shoulder, keeping him stuck to the ground. The man screamed in pain and Dimitri bent down, hatred shining in his eye.

"I can smell the blood on your hands, general. That scent of rotting flesh never lies."

"Shut up!" The general yelled. "How dare you!"

"So tell me," Dimitri spat, "should I finish you off now? Or should I keep you prisoner so you have to watch your world burn and collapse, as you have inflicted on so many people? Maybe I should be merciful and rip your eyes out so you don't have to see!"

"Enough!"

Judai's hand fell on Areadbhar and he pushed.

For one second, everything felt weird. His hand, on the weapon felt... right. He couldn't explain it, there was just a sense of deep certainty that everything was okay. Part of it was unpleasant, like a burn, but almost purifying instead of painful, a wound that had just been cleaned.

Then he was standing between Dimitri and the enemy general and the real world came back to him, like a rush of feeling.

"What is the meaning of this?" Dimitri asked, eye still brimming with mad rage.

"Enough," Judai repeated, "that man is an enemy, yes. But he doesn't deserve torture just because his self righteousness is unbearable."

Dimitri started laughing slowly. His eye was squinting, his fury becoming colder. He lowered his weapon, still staring at Judai.

"I forget. You're a shrewd little thing."

Shrewd. Well that was something he didn't remember being called before. The truth was that Judai didn't care about the man on the ground.

"I don't want you to lose yourself," he said slowly, "war does make monsters out of us, but that doesn’t mean we can’t fight it."

Dimitri tensed up at that and moved forwards in a flash, his hand reaching out. At that very moment, agony flared through Judai. He blinked in shock, and then the pain receded. Tolerable. It still felt like there was something sharp, piercing through his back... Oh...

He sighed, annoyance coursing through his veins more than anguish and sadness.

"Seriously?" He mumbled as a choked sound echoed in his ears. "You try to run through the man that just saved your life?"

There was another sound, heavy yet strangely soft, as if he heard it through a veil. When he turned, the general was on the ground, choking on his blood, eyes open wide, not understanding what was happening. There was blood on the ground, far too much blood. Judai could almost feel the way it was seeping in his shoes, just as his mind instinctually closed itself off, leaving his body the task of functioning by itself.

"Would you mind?" he heard himself tell Dimitri.

The prince, unusually helpful, tore the axe that was still stuck in his back. He was pretty sure it hurt, but everything felt numb. His hands closed on the axe as he looked at the man, distantly registering that he wouldn't survive these wounds, he just couldn't.

"Sorry," he said, "it must hurt. Let's end this."

He hit. The man's head rolled away from his body. And then it was all over.

Yubel's voice was soothing, but his body was still cold and unmoving. Dimitri came to his side, staring at the bloody axe. Judai let it go. He had no use for it. With his mutilated back and torn head, the man looked like he had been mauled by a wild beast. He distantly knew that the moment his mind accepted to come back to him he would... oh, there it was.

He had to turn to the side, throwing up. His stomach heaved with bile and shock, eyes glazed as his breathing accelerated, reminding him that he had just killed a man in cold blood, again. That it was that easy for him to lose himself.

When he managed to scramble back up (how long? How long had he stayed like that? Was everyone…), Dimitri was still here. The fighting was over it seemed, Kingdom soldiers celebrating their victory.

“No one saw you,” Dimitri said when Judai opened his mouth, “or if they did they won’t believe their eyes.”

Judai nodded numbly. He would need to see Mercedes for his back anyway, he thought, the axe had torn right through the white fabric. He wondered if anyone would ask any question. Dimitri looked at him, face grim. He wasn’t smiling or laughing anymore, his anger so much calmer now, but also sadder, almost less righteous. Judai hadn’t noticed, before, just how dull his eye looked usually. It was the prince who spoke again next.

"War makes monsters out of all of us," Dimitri said, "that much is true. But know that I am already lost to you."

"You're not," Judai said weakly, "I know you're not."

"I am. And you should know it, as a fellow monster. And though our inhumanity is different, I do wonder, between us, which one is the bigger monster."

It was desperate and horrified, but Judai laughed, bitter and condemning and grieving for years long lost.

"Don't flatter yourself," he said, "you're far from my level. And I'll do whatever I can to keep it that way. Even if I have to finish off your enemies for you."

Dimitri stayed silent. Then he walked a few steps. Not away, but closer to Judai.

"You still feel the pain."

"Of course."

Why did he think he hadn't started jumping in the middle of enemies? It would be useless, not only would they realize soon enough that they were killing themselves, but he would probably pass out from the pain too quickly to be of any use afterwards.

Another few seconds of silence.

"Don't jump in front of enemy weapons just because they can't kill you, then."

And only then did Dimitri leave. Judai stayed here, eyes closed in discomfort, nausea running through him. Yubel hummed against him, reminding him softly that Dimitri had reacted, had tried to get him away from the enemy general. That it had been his first reflex. It was a meager consolation compared to the feeling of his own humanity fleeing through his fingers, but one that warmed his chest still.

**23rd day of the Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1186**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're going on the assumption that Randolph either didn't participate in Garreg Mach's siege or survived it. But yeah, I heavily took from that one scene in AM. What I always felt made that scene so powerful is that it's not what is being said that feels awful, it's that _Dimitri_ is the one saying these things. Kind Dimitri who felt bad for killing bandits, before, sweet Dimitri who had a breakdown after having to fight Lonato... Other than that, he's mostly making a lot of pretty good points. However, here we have had months of Dimitri showing just how thoroughly the world got rid of his idealism, so I feared it would lose most of its gut-punchy aspect. In the end, I instead had the scene end up on a moment of humanity from him, when he tries to protect Judai without thinking. :)  
> Also something that wasn't intentional but that I like is how the chapter both starts and ends with anger (Felix, and then Dimitri). There are a lot of parallels made between Dimitri and Felix in the game and I love it when I make some and don't even realize it xD  
> As for the moment where Rodrigue expresses how he didn't realize how much his words had hurt Felix... Well it was something that had been on my mind ever since my first BL playthrough :o During Felix's paralogue, in every route, Rodrigue mentions it as if it was a mere disagreement, something Felix would grow out of. But five years later, during AM, he has these very sad words about the same event and how he understands why Felix took it so badly and 'hates' him. I've always wondered what made him change his mind like that, I might need to write a bonus Rodrigue pov chapter about that one day, I think it could be interesting!  
> Finally why that date at the end?  
> Well, it's one week before _a certain event_. >:3  
>  **Soon.**


	21. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain scouts a forest and has a weird day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go with a Sylvain chapter that actually happens in the present! For the longest time, this was the one chapter I was most disatisfied with. Like, I remember absolutely hating what I was writing at the time, and modifying little things ever since. I've spent most of the last week adding and taking out stuff because of that and I'm finally kind of okay with it? I think it's an overexposure thing, I've seen it too much, so I can't be happy with it no matter what x) Which means that I employed the ancestral technique of "Fuck It, it's Good Enough" and decided to yeet it here anyway.

**Chapter 20**

_Golden rays of the glorious sunshine_

_Setting down, such a blood-red light_

_Now the animals slowly retreat_

_To the shadows, out of sight_

**28th day of the Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1186**

**Sylvain**

Judai was cleaning himself up. Methodically, almost as if he was repeating a list of things to do in his head. Water, then soap, then rub, then wash, next arm, rince, repeat. His eyes looked empty as he did so and all Sylvain could do was stare. A soldier said a few words to the boy, and instantly, that fake smile of his appeared on his lips as he answered, tone joking as the soldier laughed and winked. Probably another joke marriage proposal. Apparently, the dancer had made an impression, giving strength to many people, and more than one had wanted to personally thank him after the battle. Judai had taken the compliments in stride, smiling and waving and answering to the joke flirting with a few laughs.

He had looked desperately empty.

Sylvain remembered meeting Judai, months ago, and finding him fake. A smiling liar who looked innocent but cynical in his own way, almost like Sylvain. Now that the smile reflected such emptiness, Sylvain couldn't help but wonder, though. Was his smile hiding such emptiness back then already, or had these battles broken him further? He was covered in blood after the battle, but Sylvain hadn’t seen anything after he had rushed to help Dimitri. They had both come back unharmed, so everything was okay-ish he guessed?

Truth being said, Sylvain still wasn't sure how much he trusted Judai. He trusted him to have his back, the previous battles had at least proven that. He kind of despite himself trusted him to have said the truth about who he was. But there was still some doubt inside him. The same kind of jealous doubt he remembered feeling once for Claude von Riegan...

But where he had had many reasons to feel jealous of Claude, he didn't really have any for Judai, did he? Except he did. He had brought Dimitri home. He sometimes (rarely, but still, that made it more than Sylvain) managed to make him listen. He calmed him down a bit, as if they were speaking a language only the both of them understood.

Maybe there was a bit of jealousy, yes. To see another fake guy succeed where Sylvain felt desperately useless.

That didn't mean he actually envied Judai for his newfound place in the Kingdom army, no. On the contrary, the sudden attention seemed to disturb him greatly. It was easy to know why, you had a young man who panicked at the idea of killing, looked out of it when they left the battlefield, and woke up whimpering at night being worshipped for helping them kill more people.

Yeah, no wonder he wasn't enjoying it. And too polite to get upset at those thanking him…

He had been much more relaxed with the people coming from Hrym, though. The citizens had found them in this camp after two days, likely wondering why the soldiers supposed to stop them from rebelling hadn't come yet. They had been incredibly happy to learn they were currently free of that threat, there had been supplies sent their way, people bringing them food and wine and clothes, some even bringing themselves, begging to be allowed to help them, if not in battle, then for everything else. From young girls ready to serve as messengers and to help in the infirmary, to adult men ready to build and tear down the camp anytime it was needed, and even elders who told them all they could about the local fauna and flora to help them hunt and gather herbs that might not be familiar.

It had been a pretty heartwarming sight, these people who wanted nothing more but to help them. Sylvain doubted the rest of the Empire would be so welcoming. But it had always been a thing, with Hrym, everyone knew of their rebellion, years ago, and how badly it had ended. There were even rumors that Leicester’s own house Ordelia, that had helped them at the time, had suffered the Empire's wrath too as a result... Seeing how Lysithea was the only heiress of her house despite Sylvain hearing about a lot of children from the happy Count and Countess back in the day, either it was true, or there had been some deadly illnesses in Ordelia, these past fifteen years...

In any case, Judai hadn't minded these people much, he had even entertained some of the younger kids who had asked to help, though mostly to then convince them to get back home. That had been a joined effort, really, the number of kids who had asked to fight with them because they wanted to avenge their parents or something... Sending them home had been hard, but necessary. There was a young girl who had insisted, though she didn't want to fight, just help, so Rodrigue had reluctantly accepted. There had been others like her, afterwards, that insisted as she had, so Judai and him had made rules. No one under fifteen, and no one under seventeen on the battlefield. They refused to bend on these and Sylvain had been grateful. It was more than what his own parents had been doing with Sreng even before the war with the Empire. Though in the last five years, it had been more and more obvious that it had been desperate on their part...

Sylvain didn't get along with his parents and there were many words he wanted to have with them about a lot of things, but he was starting to realize that they were simply humans in a messed-up world, and that made messed-up choices because of it. That was no excuse, but understanding did make not wanting to throttle them easier...

He sighed, following Judai out of the stream where most soldiers had been cleaning themselves up.

"You're escorting me, now?" Judai asked him as they went back to camp.

They'd established it where the Empire troops had been staying, a matter of practicality more than bad taste. Evacuating the bodies and cleaning the place up had been revulsing to many. But the place had been perfectly prepared to welcome an army, so it had made sense at the time.

"Me?" he answered with his usual fake smile. "What makes you think that?"

"Ever since the battle, you've been looking at me closely. Instead of, you know, watching obsessively over Felix."

"I don't..."

Judai raised an eyebrow, eyes almost looking amused. Sylvain groaned and crossed his arms.

"Okay, maybe Ingrid and watch a bit too much over him. We know he can take care of himself but still, he's the baby, you know? We worry!"

"Huh."

"What's that noise?"

"Nothing. Everyone seems to think you do it for a different reason, is all."

Oh great. There was gossip about them, now? Sylvain groaned again. He really didn't want to know what reasons people could believe were behind his and Ingrid's overprotectiveness. The capture of two years ago was still a painful brand in both of their hearts after all, but they had tried to keep it quiet. They knew Felix hated that they treated him as someone fragile, but they couldn't help it. He was their youngest, the baby of the bunch as Sylvain liked teasing him, the one who had spent too much time crying into their arms for them to ever buy the tough soldier act. And the state he had been in at the time...

"You haven't answered my question," Judai reminded him with a small pout.

"What? I can't simply spend time with you because I like you?"

"You don't dislike me. That doesn't translate into liking me."

Fair enough. Sylvain just shrugged, not sure how to explain exactly what he felt.

"It's not mistrust or anything. I just thought you looked... sad."

Judai lowered his eyes and nodded, a small smile on the corner of his lips.

"Well, it happens. This place is giving me the creeps."

"Yeah, I can understand. It's kind of like... you expect the ghosts of those we killed appearing out of nowhere, somehow."

"You have no idea how right you are," Judai winced, "I hope we don't stay here another night."

Rodrigue apparently hoped the same. The moment Sylvain and Judai entered the camp, he was waiting for them, asking that they scout the area and try to figure out if they could travel through the forest down south. They wouldn't be alone of course, they were in enemy territory after all. Ingrid and Felix would go with them.

Felix hadn't looked overjoyed to be volunteered out, but he had left his faithful yet sad place at Dimitri's side to join them. And Ingrid had accepted to do the same, happily escaping Annette's clutches. Sylvain didn't know what the red-haired girl had been inflicting on his friend this time, but it had seemed pretty embarrassing for her.

"Is it really a good idea to send three heirs of great families in the wild like that?" Judai asked soon enough. "Not that you're the heirs of the three families that hold the resistance but... that's exactly what you are."

"Honestly," Ingrid admitted with an embarrassed laughter, "I'm almost sure the forest was already scouted this morning. The chances of us running into trouble are very thin."

"Seriously?" Sylvain hadn't known that. "You mean Rodrigue just wanted us to take a break?"

"Plus," the young woman added, "we are used to working together, the three of us. We make a pretty efficient team, if I say so."

"It doesn't matter," Felix scoffed, rolling his eyes, "we're here because the old man wanted us to rescue this one from constant attention."

He nodded into Judai's direction and the young man sputtered, eyes open wide in surprise. To be honest, Sylvain had kind of wondered if that had been Rodrigue's reasoning from the beginning. Anyone who paid attention could see how being heralded as a hero wasn't actually pleasing him. Instead, he had seemed to wilter under the attention.

"Really?" He laughed with an embarrassed sound. "Then I'm grateful. I don't deal well with attention."

That sounded like a contradiction to Sylvain's ears. In his experience, people who fake smiled by reflex, laughed and acted happier than they did usually did so _because_ of attention after all. Look at me, I'm fine, I'm happy, aren't you too? Then you're not trying hard enough. Look at how _fine_ I am!

"I felt that one." Felix grumbled by his side.

"I guess no one enjoys too much attention on them," Ingrid hummed instead, "but what is 'too much' depends on the person."

His friends, ladies and gentlemen, too honest to be true.

The forest was near enough that it didn't take them too much time to reach it, dark bushes and drooping branches everywhere. It was hard to see what was afar, but Sylvain sincerely doubted an army or even a battalion could sneak into it unnoticed. Wood sticks kept cracking under their feet, they twisted their ankles into moss, lost their footing and swore out loud far too many times for that. It also meant that despite the lack of snow (spring and the southern heat were settling it nicely in their bones) they were leaving an obvious trail and barely progressing.

"I think we're going to have to make two teams", Ingrid ended up grumbling, "if we don't we'll never be done by sundown."

None of the men complained. Maybe because they were starting to notice how big the place was.

"There must be a pathway somewhere." Judai groaned before swearing when a thorn ripped a bit of his top's cloth. Good thing he wasn't wearing anything precious like his dancer outfit.

"Probably," Ingrid admitted, "you and Sylvain are gonna look for it. You're not dressed to walk into these bushes. Felix and I will keep going in the wild. Let's meet again at the grove we saw earlier in three hours."

Felix scoffed but nodded, likely not pleased to be volunteered for the chore part of the job, but practical enough not to complain too much. Yes, Sylvain wasn't envying them. He had put on his armor just in case, but what a good development, looking for a pathway seemed like a much easier job. Much more dangerous too, but only on the assumption that there was indeed someone waiting to ambush them.

He smirked at Felix who glared back at him. Ingrid turned towards Judai.

"Watch over the idiot?"

Judai jumped, then looked at Sylvain, and then back at Ingrid as if she was insane.

"Wait what? Huh, no way? I'm not the responsible one? Like, ever? That's a bad idea."

And then back to Sylvain.

"... Oh, right, we're doomed."

Well now Sylvain was insulted. Almost. He laughed despite himself and gave the kid a small hit on the head.

"That's mean of you kiddo, I'm proud. Now let's leave before Ingrid changes her mind."

Ingrid rolled her eyes, a small smile on her face. If even Ingrid was feeling light-hearted then maybe... nope, Felix wasn't smiling. One day, maybe. Not today, though.

"Take care, idiots." Ingrid said, pushing him away.

"You too."

Felix left without a word, barely nodding at them. Typical of him. However... No, this wasn't the time to think about that. While Rodrigue probably hadn't meant to just 'save Judai from attention', Felix wouldn't listen if he told him. Being in Alliance territory had made him close up on himself even more than usual...

"So, are we going to talk about how Ingrid and Felix together are... an emotional disaster waiting to happen?"

Yeah there was that too. While Ingrid didn't want to fight Leicester, she was also pretty critical of them. Had been grumbling about everything and anything they had heard about their politics. Leicester and her just didn't agree, but one only had to see the way Felix pressed his lips until they had turned into just one thin, pale line to know that he was taking it for himself. And with how tense he had been recently, what with them not being able to ally with Garreg Mach...

Yeah, he really hoped Ingrid wouldn't step on any emotional Bolganone. Which probably meant...

"Well, luckily, they're both able to work in silence?"

Judai snorted and shook his head.

"Maybe I'm underestimating Ingrid's tact."

"Oh no, she has none. And he's worse. Disasters, both of them."

"Well, we're not well placed to judge."

"I take offense in that one, I'm a perfectly well-adjusted individual."

"Right. Just as much as I am."

"I'm glad you understand."

They snickered. It wasn't really funny, but you took laughs where you could, didn't you? So Sylvain let himself smile, more sincerely, before going back to the sore topic.

"More seriously, they've known each other forever. They _know_ each other. Even if they end up arguing and hurting each other, they'll just go back as if they had never said anything in a few hours."

"Is that healthy?"

"I don't know. But it's better than most of my relationships."

"See, this I can believe."

He hit the kid again, still lightly, snorting despite himself. Judai laughed.

"What about you, kiddo?"

Judai's smile faltered a bit. He shrugged, pretending nonchalance terribly.

"A long time ago," he admitted, "I had a lot of messed-up relationships too. I was a dumb teen surrounded by dumb teens, so it was only logical. I like thinking that we became better with time."

"You talk about your friends, sometimes, but you've never said names," Sylvain said, tone teasing to leave him an out, "I'm going to end up thinking you made them up."

Judai slipped on a root and swore, but he was shaking his head fondly then.

"It would be quite weird for me to say names that now belong to legend, so I try to avoid saying them out loud."

"How's that?"

"Well, "Judai laughed awkwardly, "I knew four out of the five saints, for a start."

Sylvain froze. Okay, he kind of had known that on an intellectual level, or at least known it was a possibility, but hearing it out loud was something else entirely. That was unbelievable and yet...

"Really?" He said, hoping to keep his tone light as he found his bearings. "You were friends?"

"Well, except maybe with Macuil, didn't know the guy much. He and his daughter were usually pretty solitary, I don't think I even met her once... But yeah. Seiros, well, she was pretty young back then, but she liked bedtime stories about heroes saving the day, I think I could call her a friend. Indech was chill, and Cichol was such a dad... they were fun."

These were not words Sylvain had ever expected to hear about the Saints, he thought with a strange calm. It was just surreal, so maybe his brain refused to accept that fact?

"These are the only ones?"

"Not really," Judai laughed before wincing when a branch hit his hip, "most names wouldn't be familiar, and I have no idea who the ten Elites were, but I... kind of knew the Apostles too?"

"You're _serious_?" Sylvain exclaimed despite himself.

No one knew anything about the Apostles. There were something like one or two History books mentioning them in passing and what their fates had been, but between their elusiveness and the fact that their crest had disappeared almost as soon as they had appeared, some even doubted their existence.

Well, until the Ashen Wolves, bearing all four of their crests, had turned out at Garreg Mach.

"It's complicated," Judai admitted, mumbling, "I didn't exactly... _know_ , them but... Their names."

"Yeah?"

"Gods, this is complicated to explain. Basically, I had this friend, who liked adventuring with this other friend, and he was writing a book about their adventures, except he hadn't kept their real names for it."

Sylvain raised an eyebrow. He had an idea where this was going, but surely he was mistaken. Judai's smile was more like an embarrassed pout.

"The book was about two men, named Aubin Chevalier and Timmotheos Noa. The coincidence is a bit too big to be one."

Well fuck.

"Indeed," Sylvain admitted, feeling like this conversation was punch to the gut after punch to the face, "so the Apostles weren't using their real names? That'd explain why there's so little about them."

"Yeah," Judai mumbled, "his pen name was Ernest, which I have been told is the name of a lost crest too. I'm almost sure it was him, so who the four apostles were is a bit of a guessing game for me."

He exhaled slowly, his smile disappeared. His face looked sad, now, a tired expression that was barely masking the emptiness Sylvain knew he felt inside.

"Well. That's it for my relationships. That and everything else, it was so long ago... I guess it doesn't matter much now, does it?"

Yikes. Foot, meet Sylvain's mouth.

"Of course it does," he said as naturally as he could, "you have us!"

The boy froze. The way he looked at Sylvain was, honestly, kind of sad. Brown eyes so large they seemed to take half of his face, making him look younger than ever. He opened his mouth. Closed it. And then again.

"I was going to answer something sad and emotional, probably dumb too. But I just heard a scream down the way."

A what?

Oh, Seiros rip his balls. (He distantly wondered what Judai would think of the expression)

"Ingrid or Felix?" He said, drawing his lance and ready to run.

"No I don't think so," the boy said, turning and starting to walk, briskly, "it wasn't in their direction."

Walk turned into a run. Sylvain swore and followed him. Another scream, yep, he heard that one. It was a yell of rage, not a scream for help.

The moment they erupted from the bushes, they found themselves on a battle scene. A woman dressed in green, on the ground, yet making dark magic rain on their enemies. She looked stuck down, a horse cowering at her side.

The ones attacking her were wearing red. Sylvain did not hesitate. With a grunt, he jumped on the pathway, the Lance of Ruin hitting true and stabbing the first man. Judai's sword hit another one. The magic didn't let up. There weren't many opponents, truth being told, it was over in a matter of seconds.

"What the hell?"

Aaand he knew that voice. Turning towards the woman they had just helped, Sylvain wasn't surprised to see the long red hair, flowing on her shoulders. Her usual nonplussed expression was refreshingly familiar too, eyes squinting in annoyance.

"Oh. Hey Hapi!" he greeted her with a laugh. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Don't 'hey' me," the woman growled as she glared at her broken ankle, "what are you doing here? The Kingdom is up north in case you forgot."

"Do you... know each other?" Judai asked, pointedly looking away from the bodies they had just made. Good, let him focus on Hapi, that was probably better.

"We briefly met at Garreg Mach," Sylvain smiled at him, "but we've mostly seen each other these last years. Hapi went to see her family and passed through our lands often because of that."

"Huh. Okay."

Hapi groaned, patting her horse with some kind of calm aggravation. How she did that, Sylvain would never know.

"That's not answering my question," she said, "and does any of you have a vulnerary? Or knows Faith magic? I'd like to be able to stand up."

"Sorry, not here." Sylvain apologized. "Did you really come without anything? That's not like you to be unprepared."

"I didn't." She looked about to sigh, which wasn't good. "I came with Yuri-bird. Urgh, this is the worst. I swear I'm going to sigh."

"Haha. Please don't."

"I'm missing something here," Judai said lightly, "this sounds like a pretty sigh-worthy situation?"

"Yeah, no," the woman said, "if I sigh, monsters appear. Not a good thing."

"Seriously?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

No, but Judai's eyes had suddenly lightened up. He was... smiling? What the...

"Can you do it? Like, right now?"

"What? What's wrong with you, did you not hear the 'summoning monsters' part?"

Hapi started pushing on her horse to stand. Judai jumped ahead, stopping her.

"No, no, you're hurt, don't be stupid. But seriously, could you do it? I mean... It just sounds like..."

"Judai," Sylvain intervened, "that’s a bad idea. They're big monsters, and pretty aggressive too. I know you're strong and I have my lance, but we wouldn't be able to protect her easily while she’s down."

"You don't get it!" The young man was almost bouncing on his heels when he turned towards Sylvain. He was smiling wide. Not just for show like he usually did. It was sincere, childish in its glee and Sylvain felt his stomach twist. Was it what someone looked like when they were sincerely happy? How long had it been since he had last seen this kind of expression on... well.. anyone?

"What don't I get?"

"Summoning!" Judai said, gesturing almost maniacally. "Summoning monsters! With a sigh! Okay, it's not always a sigh, but it's something from back home! People used to do that all the time back in..."

He stopped in the middle of his sentence, but his joy wasn't dimmed at all. And Sylvain got it, he really did, but...

"You said the monsters you summoned were allies," he said softly, "those Hapi summons aren't."

"What are you talking about," Hapi sighed, "there's no way I..."

She froze. So did Sylvain.

Uh oh.

It was like a chill went down the forest. The last looming seconds before a disaster everyone could feel but couldn't stop. There was some kind of hissing sound, like the wind, preparing to strike.

And then the ground opened under their feet. Sylvain swore, jumped on the side, raising his lance, ready to strike the very moment the gigantic snake came out, maw open wide.

Judai jumped in front of the monster, a smile still on his lips, looking more enthusiastic than Sylvain had ever seen him.

"Hello, friend! How are you?"

What was that idiot...

Wait. Why had the monster stopped?

The snake stayed where it was, almost... looking at the boy with the same puzzlement Sylvain could feel seeping into him. What was he looking at?

"What?" Judai said with a pout. "No she wasn't threatening you. There's something wrong in the way she summoned you you say? Huh, that's weird. But no, not an enemy, don't worry. Look at you, aren't you beautiful?"

Huh. Wasn't the word Sylvain would have used to describe a gigantic snake, but if he said so? It was kind of the last of his questions right now, like... _what was he doing?_ What was happening? He hadn't felt that out of his depth since...

Well since Judai had told him about how he lived when the Goddess walked the earth.

"That's strange... Hey... Hapi, was it? Did anything weird happen to you when you were a kid?"

"It'd go faster to mention the times _nothing_ weird happened to me," she growled, "what is going on?"

"Well you summoned him alright, but according to him, your summon sounded like a threat. Except a sigh... well isn't a threat. So we're trying to figure out what happened."

"Kid, I don't even understand _why_ this one _isn't_ attacking me right now."

"Well it's because I told him you weren't here to fight? I guess they usually attack because they think you're threatening them, huh?"

"Well duh? Of course I'm threatening them? They usually attack me first!"

"Hum, that's not how it works," the boy mumbled, turning towards the monster. The snake tilted its head, looking for lack of other words, inquisitive. "Yeah, something has definitely happened that twisted your power."

"Okay stop here," Hapi said, her voice low and annoyed as usual, but a small, definitely curious lilt was there, "what are you talking about?"

"You're a summoner," Judai smiled at her, "and a natural one at that! Most people usually need to train to be able to call spirits and beasts. You do it with barely any effort. Now, to understand why your call twists the message, though..."

"Okay," she said with wide eyes and yeah, same, Hapi, he felt exactly the same way right now, "okay, okay... can someone fetch Yuri-bird so I can deal with all of this stuff _standing_?"

"I'll do it," Sylvain answered to have time to regain his bearings, "I know what he looks like."

"Hah! You sure do, Smiler. Try not to hit on him."

Please. Sylvain couldn't help but laugh. Yuri was way out of his league. He was out of everyone's league to be honest, and knew it, probably. As Sylvain liked to joke with Ingrid, Yuri wasn't a man, he was _an entity_. Finding him attractive didn't mean you were attracted by men, but that you felt sexual attraction at all. It was all jokes, of course, but it didn't change how Yuri really was a beautiful man and everyone knew it.

A beautiful man who, he noticed the moment he heard battle noises, again, hadn't been luckier than his partner. Indeed, black clothes and lavender hair were twirling in the middle of enemies, sowing death in their wake. Yuri probably didn't need him, if Sylvain had to be honest. The man was a beast, he had managed to go through the entire Battle of the Eagle and the Lion without even one wound or bruise on him.

But he didn't want to take that risk.

So for the second time today, he jumped in the battle and spinned his lance around to trip as many opponents as possible, an old technique that used to be an old friend's favourite, but that rarely saw use anymore. It worked, catching many in the knees, stopping them just soon enough to get a sword through the neck and die.

When the last one fell to the ground, Yuri raised his head, looking for all intents... as if he had just seen a ghost.

"That was Glenn's..." he started and Sylvain felt himself freeze. Then the beautiful young man shook his head, like breaking a spell, and smiled, that enchanting lips twisting of his.

"Well look at that," he purred, "I didn't expect to see you here. What are you doing here, handsome? Faerghus isn't exactly next door."

How Yuri knew Glenn, Sylvain didn't know. He figured maybe he shouldn't have been surprised, Glenn probably knew people Sylvain didn't. Maybe they even had gone to school together. It shouldn't be a mystery, it shouldn't...

It was just... still hard to hear that name. Funny how even ten years later it felt like an open wound, one that had never been allowed to close. In the end, Sylvain just smiled back.

"Come on," he winked, "you must have known about it. I know you have informants everywhere."

"Yes and no'', Yuri answered, his pretty face frowning in an aggravated look, "communication with my guys in the East has been hard recently, that's why we're here. We figured something had to have happened to our spies. Imagine our surprise when we heard that Hrym's Imperial soldiers had disappeared. Well, not all of them, since some chased us here, but the main force was taken care of."

Sylvain blinked, slightly taken aback. Communication issues? That close to Leicester lands? Weird. And worrying.

"When's the last time you heard about us?"

"Beginning of the month. A report from Balthus that said you had given them a hand against Gloucester." Yuri's eyes were calculating. "We figured that if you had gone through Gloucester's lands, since, we would have heard about it. Now, what are you doing in Hrym?"

"Trying not to run into you guys, mostly," Sylvain admitted, "but then you mean that our messenger didn't reach Garreg Mach?"

The young man's shoulders formed a tense line, Sylvain knew his own shoulders were the same.

"A messenger?" Yuri repeated slowly. "No we haven't had one of those. Not one that reached us, and my guys didn't report anyone either."

Which meant that their messenger couldn't have gone far before being... what, taken? Killed? No matter the situation, that also meant that the message had been intercepted and read. Luckily, there wasn't much in it, Rodrigue had stayed succinct, simply suggesting that the Alliance and the Kingdom agree not to attack each other. The fact that they had not received a response yet had been slightly worrying, but not much seeing how fast they moved. Their messenger could simply have not been able to find them again as long as they moved... But if the message hadn't even reached Yuri's ears, then...

"That's not good..." Sylvain groaned.

Yuri nodded softly, bending to pick up a dagger he probably had lost during the battle.

"Not good indeed," he said, "I will hurry back home to warn Claude about the situation, but we can't do much by ourselves. Lady Daphnel might have given us her help, but most Alliance lords are desperately trying to stay away from the conflict. That means that they've been vetoing any alliance we've suggested, in fear that the Empire would see that as provocation, and that it would happen even without even the certainty of any help coming from you, seeing the Kingdom's situation."

Which made an awful lot of sense. So both sides had their hands tied... Sylvain swore under his breath. Yuri smirked.

"You said it, friend. But in any case, if I have one piece of advice?"

His smile disappeared.

"Try not to head West for the next few days, or at least not too quickly. That might be a bad idea as long as we haven't resolved that issue with your messenger."

"It won't be resolved easily," Sylvain admitted, bitter, "our lords are paranoid. If they learn that the messenger they sent, in Alliance lands, never reached his goal, they'll assume foul play."

Yuri rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"Nobles." He grumbled scornfully.

Sylvain laughed, helplessly and feeling incredibly tired. That was familiar, hadn't Claude and him joked the same way, once upon a time? It was much less funny this time...

"Nobles..." He confirmed.

Yuri finished cleaning his sword, and then turned to Sylvain again.

"So. How is Most Beautiful?"

Sylvain snorted, the sudden change in subject making him feel much lighter.

"Around here, actually. And fine, don't you worry."

"That's not possible, friend. I can't not worry. It's like Bernadetta, I feel like they're going to attract trouble the moment my back is turned."

Fair enough. And it wasn't like he could watch over Bernadetta, right now since, unless there had been changes he hadn't heard about, she was currently in the Empire. If anything, Sylvain hoped Yuri wouldn't have to fight her on the battlefield...

Well, not like Bernadetta should be on a battlefield, really. This would be hell for her.

No time to feel bad, he supposed with a sigh. They were all in that hell anyway.

"By the way, Hapi was the one who sent me to find you. She broke her ankle and needs your Faith magic."

Yuri's eyes turned serious again.

"You didn't leave her alone, tell me."

"No, she's supposed to be with a friend." could he call Judai that? Yes, he figured he could. If not him, maybe the snake. "Not far from here, though. Let's hurry."

They found Hapi alone. Well, not exactly alone. The gigantic snake was still there and Yuri jumped. His dumbfounded expression would have been funny if Sylvain hadn't been sure he had had the exact same on this face at that exact moment too. After all, Hapi was now _petting_ the monster.

"Well that's a new development," Yuri said slowly, "how did that happen?"

Hapi turned to him, eyes wide and lost but not exactly displeased.

"The kid from the tomb is weird." She blurted out.

"Here's something that explains everything yet nothing," Yuri hummed, "and where is he?"

"He left. Another monster came to him, asked for something and he followed. I couldn't see it but I heard it. It sounded cute."

Sylvain's head was spinning a bit. Hapi looked like she couldn't wrap her head around it either. Yuri didn't even try.

"Sure," he said with glazed over eyes, "let's go with that. Won't be the weirdest thing to have happened."

"Okay, it was nice to see you two, but I need to find him," Sylvain groaned, "which way did he go?"

He barely waited for an answer before rushing away. Far from the monster and far from the two ex Ashen Wolves. He liked them, he really did. He had been happy to see Hapi everytime she went through Faerghus to see her family, he had been happy to see Yuri for the first time in five years.

He was also starting to realize that they were far too close to them for it to be safe in the current situation.

For five years, authorizing Hapi's passage had been easy. The Ashen wolves were unaffiliated and had no love lost for the Empire, so Hapi could come and go, and had Yuri or Balthus or Constance chosen to do the same, it would have gone swimmingly (maybe not as easily for Constance, but he knew Rodrigue would have let her). But now that they were near the battlefield, it wasn't so easy to ignore the reality.

The reality was that while the wolves were unaffiliated, they were deeply loyal to Yuri, probably always would be. And Yuri was as loyal to Claude as they came. They weren't just _allies_ , they were _friends_. Good ones.

They were on Leicester's side.

And they weren't enemies, not really, and they didn't want to be. But everything was messed up and he hated it. He knew he could tell Rodrigue to try not to go West as Yuri had asked. He also knew that if the reason for it turned out to be important, even Rodrigue wouldn't be able to ignore it. And it was dangerous. Incredibly dangerous.

They were far too close. He feared there'd be spilt blood, soon, blood none of them wanted on their hands… He swallowed and prayed, for Felix’s sake if no one else’s, that he was wrong.

When he found Judai, the boy wasn't alone. He had found Ingrid and Felix it seemed, they were all staring at something on the ground.

"There you are!" Sylvain exclaimed happily. "You guys are all okay?"

Only Felix turned to him, his face somber, even more than usual.

"Dead body," he summarized.

So that was what they were looking at?

"We left a bit of them downway too," he snarked, "what has this one that’s so special? Wait, that's not one of ours, is it?"

"No," Ingrid said, sounding disturbed, "it's an old one. Already a bit rotten."

Sounded awful. Sylvain scowled, thanking the Goddess that the wind was blowing the other way. He did not want to smell that.

"It's white." Ingrid added after a second.

"What do you mean, white?"

He didn't need her to answer the question. The moment he was close enough, he saw the corpse. 'It's white' was probably the only way he could have thought to describe it at first too. But 'white' wasn't an exaggeration. It was... _white_. The skin that wasn't rotten was so pale, more than deathly. It looked unreal, inhuman, almost like snow.

"They were this way too," Felix said, voice choked by distaste, "in Remire. There were bodies like that. No one knew why. Manuela mentioned a dark magic theory."

Remire. Well there was something about their Garreg Mach days Sylvain didn't want to think about. And he hadn't even been there, that dubious honour had fallen onto the Golden Deer, like most of the terrible things that had happened during that year.

"Did she get to confirm her theory?" Sylvain asked, turning away from the rotting corpse. He had a good stomach but even for him it was a bit too graphic. His eyes fell on Judai instead.

Judai was pale too. Not like the corpse, no. But a sharp contrast to the genuine joy he had been showing just a few minutes ago. He looked... well Sylvain couldn't swear ir but... he looked terrified.

"Judai?"

The kid recoiled, as if he had been burnt. When he raised his head, his expression was desperate, horrified. He wasn't good with death, but somehow, this didn't look like his usual hatred for blood. Sylvain felt his chest tighten. What was happening?

Judai looked for his words for a few seconds, at a loss. Felix turned to him, eyebrow inquisitive. Ingrid was still staring at the body, transfixed by shock and horror.

"Light," Judai ended up saying slowly, voice hoarse, "that body... it's infected with Light."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Jazz hands away*  
> More seriously I think it was Hapi's supports with Linhardt that imply that Cornelia messed with her powers and that the monsters she summons are supposed to obey her? In any case it definitely felt YGO to me and was one of the multiple reasons I wanted to write that fic xD In the end it's very secondary to the plot and is mostly a nice happy moment for Judai. He needed it with how the chapter ends. Also he didn't get to see Hapi's crest and didn't meet Yuri, which means he couldn't confirm which Apostle was who... Kind of a shame, we'll have to remedy to that soon enough.  
> Welp, anyway! Next chapter is going to be a long one. Very long. Because of that it might take its time to come. But we're entering my favourite moments (tm)! As in if I were to make a top ten of my favourite chapters to write, at least half of it would be some of the next ten or so chapters. :3 Yes, I'm not done writing it, but honestly, I don't expect that to change. So I hope the wait will be worth it!


	22. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri falls in love. It goes wonderfully until everything breaks apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell. This is THE longest chapter in the fic. It's almost 19k words long, almost as long as one of my short novel projects in its entirety!  
> Truth being said, my outline basically was "Have a few scenes showing how Glenn and Yuri fell in love and then the aftermath of Duscur" before going back to Academy time. Except "a few scenes" turned into 20 pages. This was not planned. I can't even say it's because I'm a sucker for slow burn, they become established far too quickly for that. I guess I just... loved writing them together. I actually thought about making part of it a bonus chapter but I couldn't find which parts to take out, I just enjoyed them all too much...  
> In any case, a few warnings are needed here. First of all, I've moved things around concerning Yuri's backstory because I felt like most of it doesn't make sense. While we're not sure where he's from (except "Western Fodlan") there are few hints that he was from Faerghus, but then how the hell did a poor fourteen years-old end up in the Adrestian capital to witness Dorothea's rise to prominence right before getting adopted by a Faerghan Count? Likewise, Bernadetta calls him her 'childhood friend' despite how they apparently met when he was already in Abyss, which means at most two years before the game. So I changed things up and had him go to Garreg Mach earlier than he did canonically to fit everything together. I'm also, while still not okay with it by far, a bit more comfortable with a seventeen years-old prostitude than a fourteen years-old one...  
> That being said, this is Yuri's backstory and if you're not familiar with it then **Warning for underage prostitution, mentions of ephebophilia, and other general unpleasantness. Reader discretion is advised** , even if I made sure not to include anything graphic. If you don't think you can read that part, then jump once you reach the part that starts with " It took him a few weeks." until the next date in bold.

**Chapter 21**

_Teach me how to fight_

_I'll show you how to win_

_You're my mortal flaw_

_And I'm your fatal sin_

_Let me feel the sting_

_The pain_

_The burn_

_Under my skin_

**25th day of the Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1174**

**Yuri**

Count Rowe's castle was cold. Yuri had spent years in the streets, in decrepit houses or in the perfume-heavy atmosphere of brothels, yet it was the rich stone castle that felt the coldest in his soul. Maybe it was the absence of his mother, or maybe the lack of all that had made him who he was until then. His clothes, his mother, his knives, his hair (he would grow it out again, Rowe be damned) and even his name. He tried it out again, mumbling against his palm.

Yuri Leclair. Yuri Leclair.

That was his name now.

He hated it.

It wasn't that he disliked the name itself, but what it represented. He had already sold everything that he had the right to, but somehow he hadn't expected the most important of all of these sales to include his name. Was there anything that was still him, now?

Were the power, the money and the possibilities worth it?

Do not doubt, he scowled at himself, it's by not doubting yourself that you already got this far. Trust your abilities.

He just needed to get to the officer's academy, then he would have all he needed. His guys. His family. His connections. His information. His qualifications. And Rowe could suck on a lemon, as his mother always said so politely.

He was looking through the window at the lords, the ones who were supposed to sign up on his adoption. He knew their names, yes. Kleiman, Gaspard, Charon... Though he had heard that lord Lonato of Gaspard couldn't come as he himself was busy with his own adoption procedures. He wondered who they had called to replace him.

Whatever, he would have to meet them later anyway, wouldn't he? In the meantime, better be a good little lordling and slip away to the training grounds.

The sword in his hand wasn't as new a weight as one would think, and going through the motions was easy. He stabbed at the dummy in front of him, aiming, trying to fight cleanly for once. Slash, stab. Not clean enough. Rince, repeat until it's decent. For minutes, maybe hours if necessary. He wasn't ignorant of the effects hard training could have on his body on the short term, but it was nice to know you were safe enough to go further than usual.

There were footsteps behind him, probably some of the guards coming here to unwind a bit. He still tensed up, force of habit, but didn't stop to look at them.

"Your form is sloppy."

The voice was sharp, almost aggressive, and young. There was a small crack in it that made Yuri pause. A teenager?

He turned. And was met by an annoyingly attractive face.

The teenager was taller than he was, high cheekbones and piercing eyes. He held himself with confidence, clothes of high quality, dark hair braided neatly, and also long, so he was definitely killing Rowe because this clearly was a lordling too and how dare he pretend one needed short hair to look like one.

"Really," he drawled in answer, "then could you show me?"

The teenager looked taken aback for a second, but he clearly heard the challenge in his voice.

"I don't know, I'm pretty sure my little brother has a steadier form than yours. And he's twelve."

"And probably cuter than your ugly mug too," Yuri retorted without thinking.

In hindsight he shouldn't have. This was a noble brat from a noble house, probably one that held his fate in their hands. But he felt tired, right now, and had lived his whole life with insults and provocations at the tip of his tongue. He was not in the right state of mind to repress his reflexes.

Fortunately for him, the boy looked surprised one second, and then a smirk decorated his face.

"Oh, you're going to be fun," the lordling said, "give me a sword if you want a correction that badly."

Yuri's body was burning.

He ended up flat on his back, the lordling's wooden sword against his neck. He had been sloppy indeed, and it was frustrating to realize that had he been in his normal state, he might have won.

"What?" he laughed. "Is that all?"

"I'm not the one on the ground," the boy answered with a wolfish smile, "are you sure you should brag?"

Indeed, he wasn't. He was the one sitting on him, looking pleased like a cat that caught a bird, a position that made Yuri want to make a thousand dirty jokes. But also one that made his stomach churn with a strange discomfort.

"You're not used to the sword are you?" he said, hoping to distract the boy from the warmth caught on his cheeks.

The lordling tilted his head, smile still sharp like a sword's edge. Yuri wanted to pull on his hair, wondering how he'd react.

"How could you tell?" He ended up asking lightly, standing up at last, to Yuri's immense relief.

"More than once," Yuri groaned sitting up, "it was obvious with your footwork that you expected more reach. You also stabbed a lot more than you slashed."

The boy barked a small laugh.

"Well you're brighter than you look."

"Excuse me what does _that_ mean?"

"Fighting even though you're exhausted? That's pretty stupid. So why does a smart person train in that state?"

"Aww, are you worried? It would be cute if you weren't so ugly."

Their smiles were almost snarls, but there was something warm in Yuri's chest, not discomfort this time. This was fun. This was immensely fun.

"Young Master Glenn!"

The severe voice of what was certainly an intendant cut his fun short, replacing the warmth by the freezing cold the castle. He turned to her, eyes dead, noting that the lordling was doing the same, his elegant face twisted in what was almost a pout. He quickly schooled his expression as the attendant came forward, a stout woman with a cold stare.

"Count Rowe has been looking everywhere for you, he couldn't find you after welcoming you in. What are you doing here?"

"Count Rowe seemed busy enough with all of his guests, I figured I could come down here to unwind a bit instead of bothering him. It's not as if he needs me before tomorrow anyway."

"You're here as your father’s representative," she answered firmly, "if you want to take your leave, you shall announce it."

"Sure Mariette. I will do so next time."

His tone was placating, but his eyes were long-suffering. Yuri wondered if it wasn't just to get rid of her for a little while that he didn't say he was leaving. The woman huffed before turning to Yuri, squinting. She recognized his noble clothes and bowed to him, her disinterested respect rang faker than the ones the adults in his gang of thieves had for him at twelve.

"Young master," she said, "I hope our Glenn did not bother you."

"Certainly not," Yuri crooned in answer, "playing swords is a great way to unwind, and it's much easier achieved when you're not on your own, not to mention far more fun."

She nodded again, clearly only listening to make sure ‘Glenn’ didn't cause an incident. Glenn didn't twitch either and Yuri mentally lamented that his innuendo had gone right over their heads. What a shame.

"I'll be inside in a second, Mariette," Glenn swore, "please tell Count Rowe that I'll go to him as soon as I'm... presentable."

Right, there had been some torn clothes during their scuffle, especially by Yuri's hand. You never forgot how to fight dirty and his opponent hadn't complained, clearly enjoying his superior force and height advantages far too much for that.

The moment Mariette disappeared from view, Glenn let a deep, annoyed sigh escape his lips.

"I'm a knight," he grumbled, "what did they expect? Of course I ran here."

"I didn't know knights needed fighting to live," Yuri retorted.

Then he thought again, frowned, and turned to the teenager.

"Wait, you're a knight? How old are you?"

"Fifteen!" Glenn answered, posture proud.

Fifteen? That boy was knighted at fifteen? Were they insane?

"Wow," he said in the most unimpressed voice he could manage, "you must be good."

"I am," Glenn said without any hesitation, "the best fighter my family had in decades, they like to say."

"Aren't you humble!"

"Fake modesty is just fishing for compliments."

Yuri snorted despite himself.

"Well we'll have to do that again," he said lightly, "I need to see the 'best fighter your family had in decades' and beat that ego out of you."

"I hope you like being slammed to the ground," Glenn answered lightly, raising a hand in invitation, "by the way, my name is Glenn Fraldarius."

Despite everything, Yuri took it with little hesitation.

"Yuri Leclair," he answered.

They stayed that way for a few seconds, not moving. Glenn raised an eyebrow.

"We're supposed to shake," he said.

"Don't play dumb," Yuri smiled, "I know you just wanted an excuse to hold my hand."

"Don't try it, pretty face." Glenn's expression was far too amused for his warning to sound true.

"And here I was doing you a favour. I guess we'll see each other around, ugly mug."

*

Glenn Fraldarius, it turned out, wasn't just an arrogant handsome knight with a knack for not getting innuendos. He was a menace who loved teasing people and an airhead who couldn't figure out that he was pissing everyone off by being perfect and annoying about it. Or he had figured it out and didn't care. Yes, that was a possibility.

Yuri wondered when maybe enjoying a little shit's presence had become his life. Maybe it was a good thing that Fraldarius wouldn't stay long, just long enough to finalize the papers (Lord Charon couldn't find time to join them so they were running late, and Fraldarius would be stuck here a week or two). Maybe it was. Yuri would miss the agitation. Just the agitation, not the man, no. Not the way his grey eyes glinted when he surprised him during a sparring session, not the lilt in his voice when they saluted each other, not the agile hands showing him how to hold a weapon better and tucking a hair strand behind his ear in the same breath, and certainly not his smirk, a glorious twitch of his lips, when Yuri answered his provocations with the same teasing tone. It was annoying after all, especially at his expanse, and it did not lift his spirits at all, to have someone actually enjoying a good verbal spar. He had good insults too. Now if only he wasn't a Goddess-damned thief-

He rushed to the training grounds, annoyed, because he had told him not to take it, that he needed it, but of course he hadn't listened and of course the fucker was there.

"Fraldarius, where is my sash?" He growled.

"I ate it," Glenn answered without missing a beat, focused as he was on his footwork.

"I am not your little brother, Fraldarius, this doesn't work on me."

Glenn glanced at him, not fast enough to hide his smirk.

"Really? Then, what does work on you?"

Oh, he wanted to play that game. Yuri walked in front of him.

"Okay, so you ate it," he crooned, "you'd better make it up to me."

"Well if you want it back," Glenn answered, tapping his shoulder with the wooden edge of his lance, "you're going to have to work for it."

Yuri didn't get his sash back, at least, not this day. Instead he got the most exhilarating mock-fight he had ever gotten, forcing him on his back, breathing heavily, but a smile drawn on his face, pure joy and exhaustion radiating from every bone in his body. At his side, Glenn was laying down too, explaining all he could do to get better. Yuri had stopped listening a long time ago, but that voice, Goddess, that voice. Raspy because of the previous effort, but pleasant. Soothing, methodic, a cadence that was both firm and gentle, as if the exhaustion was blurring his edge and scorn, only leaving the advice.

"Yuri? Yuri, are you listening?"

Yuri blinked and for just one second, he had forgotten that was his name, now, and searched for someone else. Oh. No, no, Glenn was talking to him.

"Sorry," he admitted, "I didn't realize you were speaking to me."

"I said your name multiple times." Glenn pouted, like the childish teen he really was but hid in public.

"It wasn't always..."

Yuri clamped his mouth shut. Glenn wasn't pouting anymore, looking at him with barely hidden curiosity now.

"It wasn't your name before," he concluded easily.

"You can't say it," Yuri hissed back.

"Why? Changing names when you're adopted happens a lot. It's not a secret."

It'd be if you traced his original name and tried to use his mother against him. Yuri wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"Can I know your old name?"

His old name. His real name. Glenn seemed to realize the subject was sensitive and dropped it.

"Oh well, you'll tell me when you're ready. Anyway, let's start from the beginning again. Your sword arm, you need to..."

"Glenn," Yuri laughed despite himself, "shut up. Give me my sash back."

Glenn stared and smiled, all teeth.

"Make me."

Yuri wanted to erase that smirk. He pushed him to the ground and Glenn started laughing as they wrestled. Yuri listened to the light-hearted sound, forcing a scowl on his face.

"You know," Glenn said once they finally got back up, "I like your name. Your current name. It suits you."

"Really? How so."

"Heh, I don't know. It sounds pretty, I guess."

There was no way this knight didn't know what he was doing to Yuri, and despite himself, Yuri was enjoying every second of it. He had to admit it, a pang inside his guts.

Once Glenn left, he would miss him, terribly.

*

A sheet of paper was slammed in front of him. Yuri raised his head, surprised to see Glenn, looking far too excited for both of their own goods. His excitement was contagious, Yuri could already feel his body shake in anticipation for whatever it was that was on that paper.

"What's that?" he said.

"Assignment papers," Glenn answered happily, "Count Rowe needs help with some bandits based near Lake Teutates that he apparently doesn't have the men for. I sent a letter to my father about the matter and for the next few months, I'm supposed to come to his aid with my battalion."

"Wait," Yuri mumbled as shock and something that almost felt like joy hit him, "that means..."

"I'm staying here! Not indefinitely, but for a while at least."

Yuri felt himself smile. He almost jumped into his friend's arms, as he used to do with his mother when he had found (stolen) a particularly precious treasure that would stop them from starving for a week. Instead he tilted his head.

"Awww, can't live without my beauty?"

"Please, you're a fragile little thing, how do I know you're not going to just up and die when I leave?"

"I'm taking you on whenever you want."

"I knew you liked being slammed into the ground."

"Not as much as you like being on top."

Glenn's eyes were sparkling and Yuri just knew that it was another innuendo that had gone right over his head. He shouldn't have found that as charming as he did.

“You do know that I’m staying here to help people, right?” Glenn smiled, challenge glinting into his eyes.

Yuri smiled back.

“I can entertain the idea that you’re staying here for more than one reason.”

*

"Glenn. Where is my book?"

Yuri knew the answer before Glenn answered. They were inside Yuri's bedroom. Pretty small for the (adoptive) son of a noble, but still bigger and more decent than anything he had ever had before. He had been reading, Glenn complaining that he was too focused on his reading to talk to him, Yuri ignoring him on purpose. It was a little song and dance of theirs, had been since Glenn had started staying here. Yuri was doing something, Glenn would enter, clamoring for his attention. Yuri would pretend to ignore him, and then act as if he needed to do something, putting whatever he was doing away. When he came back, whatever he had been doing had disappeared.

Every single time, he asked where it had gone. Every single time, Glenn smirked, eyes glinting, and answered the very same three words.

"I ate it."

It never got old, strangely. They enjoyed the play fighting that ensued everytime. Today marked one month and half since Glenn had stayed. It seemed it'd be an usual evening between them, laughing and joking and either pretending that _thing_ between them didn't exist or trying to tease until the other would be the first one to blink and admit it. A dare, a challenge, like their whole relationship had been until then.

Yet that night, Yuri decided to lose.

Somehow they ended up play-brawling on the bed, laughing way too hard about such a dumb thing. Glenn's teeth were reflecting the candle on the bed table, and maybe that was why, despite being breathless, laughing out loud at their own stupidity, Yuri stopped moving the moment he was on top.

They stared at each other, eyes shining with mirth and fondness, just one second as they stopped fighting. Just one second, before Yuri bent down and kissed his knight on the lips.

Soft. Chaste. Some kind of fairy tale romance bullcrap kiss, Yuri couldn't help but think as he pulled back. Strangely perfect too by how different it was from everything he had known until then. He felt amazing, happy. Pure, in a way, if someone like him could ever be that. And he wanted more. So much more.

Glenn's skin was flushed, his steely eyes gleaming with exertion and want. He had enjoyed it very much, clearly, as much as Yuri had. It had been nice, pleasant. Distantly, in the part of his brain that wasn't numb with satisfaction, Yuri realized he kind of wished it had been his first kiss. The only shadow in the beautiful picture under him was the embarrassment that was slowly making its way on Glenn's face. A bit of shame too, maybe. Yuri let his heart sink a bit and tilted his head in a question.

"I should probably come clean," Glenn admitted awkwardly, "before this goes further. I am engaged."

Oh.

"Yeah," Yuri said with a blink, "I know. To that Galatea girl, right?"

"And... it doesn't bother you?"

"Well it depends, what do you think about her?"

He let go of Glenn, letting him sit, pensive.

"I care for her, a lot. Ingrid is a great girl and all, she's adorable and her drive is admirable..."

Yuri didn't have to hear a ‘but’ to know there was one. Glenn sighed.

"But she's my little brother's age, barely older really! And maybe it won't matter in a few years, but right now it just feels weird. If someone told me right now that they wanted to marry Lixie I'd fight them, because he's just so young! She's like a little sister to me, I don't..."

His stare fell on Yuri, heavy like a blanket. He didn't want the same things from her than he wanted from Yuri.

"Then why would I have a problem?" he said. "It's not like I expected either of our positions to let us get official."

Glenn looked at him in shock. Then a smile graced his handsome face and he leaned in, his lips finding Yuri's once again.

*

Glenn left, but promised to write.

*

Ashe Ubert was a small, lithe thing with big green eyes and so much joy in them that if not for the way they had met, Yuri would never have believed he was a thief and a street rat before.

Yuri liked lockpicking his way into the kitchen at night time, mostly to bask into the forbidden territory. He did not have a reason to steal his food anymore, but the thrill of going where he wasn't allowed to kept stealing his breath away. He had locked it back up and found a bit of bread, morning old, not that fresh anymore. Not that long ago, he would have called that a feast.

So he was nibbling at it, feeling almost back home for a second, when someone had come close to the door. And then, surprise of all surprises, he had heard weird noises from outside. Well, not that weird really, just weird because of where he was.

Because not a doubt, it had been the noises of someone lockpicking the door. So Yuri had stood up and gone to the door, opening it from inside.

A boy had entered, stumbling inside, with a small squeak. He had raised big, terrified eyes at Yuri and started blabbering apologies and no he didn't want to steal anything he just wanted a glass of water and please don't tell lord Lonato, I don't want to disappoint him and...

Yuri had shushed him as soon as possible, slamming his hand against his mouth.

"Shh, do you want them to catch us?"

And at that moment, the already gigantic eyes of the kid had widened even more in shock and realization. They had exchanged a glance. Recognition. They were two thieves in a den of nobles.

From that moment, Ashe had never strayed far. For the whole duration of his stay at the Rowe's estate, he had been watching him spar and train, asking him questions about his studies, helping him at the stables, or speaking enthusiastically about knights' prowesses or books he had read. All of that with this innocent, gleaming gaze that should not have belonged to a thief.

"Yuri, did you know that in a few years I'll be able to attend Garreg Mach? What about you?"

"Yuri, do you know the story of Loog an Kyphon? Can you read it with me? Please?"

"Yuri, can you show me how to hold the sword, I think I've got it wrong. And do you know how to use the bow? I love the bow!"

"Yuri, can I train with you?"

"Yuri, do you..."

It should have been more annoying than it was. Yuri had never felt like there was something non-physical about him that should be admired, but as he was tying up his hair (finally starting to be long again for it), he couldn't help but think it sounded kind of familiar.

" _Lixie always wants to spend time with me,_ " Glenn had said, " _he's lucky he's adorable._ "

Help, Yuri thought kind of hysterically, watching Ashe run to him as if he had just hung the moon and the stars in the sky, is that what having a little brother feels like?

No one should trust him as a big brother, what would he even _teach_ the kid? Nothing good, that was for sure. He thought about sending a letter to Glenn, but after two drafts that sounded far too panicked to his taste, he gave up.

Ashe left less than two weeks later, anyway, taking with him the warmth and joy of the Rowe Estate, and Yuri went back to planning, maybe slightly relieved, but his heart unfortunately heavy.

*

There was a celebration at Rowe's castle. It sounded incredibly dreary except for juicy gossip and favours that'd help him in the future, but Yuri was prepared. Killing time and waiting for his chance to strike had always been his way of doing things, and it would stay that way probably forever. He wasn't one to rush into things after all. But he knew how to be a good little lordling, so at dinner he tilted his head, the perfect picture of innocence. Rowe usually didn't eat with him, but the knights were chatty and liked him well enough, so he usually went to them. He was pretty sure one or two knew just how devious he really was, but they seemed to find it amusing more than dangerous. Good.

"Who are the lords who will come to the celebrations?" he asked. "Will Ashe come?"

Yes, perfect innocence. Just a kid who wanted his playmate, not a crook expecting to hear secrets he could use as leverage against men much more powerful than him.

"Don't think so," a knight said, pouring wine into her glass, "I heard Lord Lonato's elder son came up with a fever. We're waiting for confirmation, but that family will probably cancel."

A shame, really. Not that Yuri minded not having to babysit his cute young friend while doing his shady business, but he'd miss him.

"There's gonna be Lord Charon and the Lady of Gideon, though. Also lord Galatea and that upstart of Kleiman. I even heard that the Gautiers are going to come. Lord Fraldarius was called to the King's assistance, so he won't be there, but I heard his son will come in his place."

Yuri's heart jumped in his chest and he barely restrained his smile. Oh. Oh sweet Sothis could it really be?

The knight winked, a knowing smile on her face.

"I only know about it because I'm guarding the Lord's quarters. I know you like his company."

Yuri could barely wait to finish his dinner before running out, right to the aviary, sending a small letter, composed only of fond insults.

The answer arrived two days later, the day before the lords were supposed to arrive for the ceremony.

 _And here I wanted to surprise you,_ it was saying, _next time, I will. No cheating._

Oh Glenn. He knew the knight, he knew what that was. That was another challenge. Who would surprise the other first would win. And Yuri wouldn't have it any other way.

*

"Hello, pretty lady."

It was a red-haired boy, around Yuri's age. Talking to him. Yuri blinked, thinking about tying up his hair. There had been a few people mistaking him for a woman from behind, but that was still pretty rare. And it was the first time it happened as he was being hit on.

"How did I not know there was such beauty, living here," the teenager was saying, his voice like velvet, "I can't believe that tales of your splendor did not reach my ears."

The vain part that Yuri indulged a lot (he didn't have much to be proud of, but his looks? Definitely part of that ‘not much’.) agreed with him on that. But maybe he had heard and simply hadn't realized. After all, he would have heard tales about the splendor of a man.

Yuri tilted his head, letting a shy smile form on his lips. He was wondering if he should answer with a falsetto voice or if it'd be too obvious. Or maybe wait just the last second for the reveal?

The boy smiled, charming. He was pretty tall, broad and handsome, and honestly, if it wasn't for the fact that he knew Glenn was coming for him in a few minutes, he might have been tempted to flirt back, just to play a little bit. Nothing that would go far, but enough to flex his seductive muscles so to speak.

"Really now," the boy said softly, raising a hand to touch his cheek, "you don't have to be shy. What do you say we go sit somewhere together, have a nice, quiet meal in my room? Or yours if you prefer."

What did one have to do not to burst with laughter.

"Sylvain!"

The voice that exploded on the other side of the corridor was familiar and Yuri forgot the laughter bubbling in his chest, feeling instead beautiful joy and warmth lighting up in his whole body.

The boy, Sylvain, tensed up and turned, laughing sheepishly. A few meters away, there was Glenn, handsome as usual, wearing a ceremonial outfit that he probably hated with how impractical it was. There was a warning in his voice, and Yuri wondered a second, dangerous excitement making him shiver, if he was jealous.

Heavy steps answered his question. After a whole year here, he could recognize them anywhere.

His favourite non-Glenn noble, lord Gwendal, came up, frowning and imposing, as usual. The Grey lion stopped, staring at them. Slowly, his eyes turned into a glare, solely directed at Sylvain.

"Young Master Gautier," he said with a deep, growling voice, "may I know what you're doing?"

Sylvain (Gautier? Sylvain Gautier was that it?) made a small noise that sounded like an ‘eek’ and sauntered off with apologies. Lord Gwendal stared at him until he left, then turned to Yuri.

"Are you alright?"

Yuri almost burst out laughing.

"Yes," he said with a shiver that he hoped didn't betray his hilarity, "he was harmless, really. But thank you for your attention."

Lord Gwendal made a throaty noise. He opened his mouth, clearly ready to tell him to stay by his side in case Sylvain tried anything else. Fortunately, Glenn reacted first, stopping the well-meaning old man to ruin what they clearly both hoped would be a pretty fun afternoon.

"If I may take my leave, lord Gwendal. Yuri and I were planning to go sparring."

The lord stopped in his tracks and looked at them. He shrugged, clearly not worried about Glenn the way he was about Sylvain, which was honestly just a bit hilarious, if the old man was hoping to protect Yuri’s nonexistent virtue.

"Be careful not to be late to the reception," was all he added before going on his way.

They watched him leave and exchanged a smile. Just a small smile, but Yuri's chest felt like it was going to explode.

"I missed your ugly mug," he sighed.

Glenn wrinkled his nose, amusement dancing on his face. He hit him lightly on the shoulder.

"I missed you too, you jerk. Now, what was Sylvain doing to you?"

This time, Yuri didn't resist. He started laughing, hard, hiding his face in Glenn's shoulder in case it'd help him calm down.

"He thought I was a girl," he laughed, "he was flirting with me, calling me pretty lady and all of that."

He could feel Glenn shudder a bit, but whether it was in amusement or anger, hard to tell.

"I should have figured," the knight ended up saying, voice tight, "Sylvain usually doesn't go for guys. Married women, grandmas and even the eventual scarecrow, but not guys."

"Heh, too bad for him. I'm an acquired taste anyway."

Glenn laughed in his hair.

"I'm a bit worried for him," he then admitted, "his obsession with flirting with girls is... weird. It's not sincere. I think his parents put these thoughts inside his head."

He groaned and his hand fell in Yuri's hair, lazily comforting.

"Let's stop there," he decided, "we are not talking about my brother's friends right now. So, you promised to tell me! What happened with Lonato's little boy?"

*

Sylvain didn't let up on his flirting. In fact, for the first four days of the celebration, the moment they could be alone, he would shower him with compliments and winks and suggestions about... not alone time, not exactly, but help, whatever he could do to 'lift such a charming sight's spirits'. It was cute. It really was. And it was mean of Yuri to lead him on, it really was too. But Yuri was enjoying the situation a bit too much to stop now.

He was trying to fix his hair in a more feminine way when Glenn entered the room. His lover snorted the moment he saw him.

"Sylvain has been flirting with you again?" he guessed.

Yuri let himself fall on the bed dramatically, a desperate sigh escaping his lips.

"Oh, you know, I'm used to compliments, not that an ugly mug like you could understand that. But one day or another, I'll burst out laughing when he talks, and then he'll realize I'm not a woman and I'll break his cute little heart and I'm not sure what I shall do when that happens."

"You actually like that he thinks you're a woman?" Glenn laughed, walking to his side before combing his hair with his fingers. "Is that why you've been applying more make-up these last days?"

"No, it's because make-up suits me. However, I wouldn't be against you braiding flowers in my hair so I look like a novel's fair maiden in love."

Glenn muffled his chuckles against Yuri's shoulder and deposed a quick kiss on it.

"This is such a mean prank."

"Please," Yuri grinned at him, "you're enjoying it even more than I am."

"When will we tell him that Lord Gwendal doesn't have a daughter?"

"On our or his deathbed. Not before if he doesn't realize it by himself."

It wasn't supposed to be literal. Really, it wasn't. Unfortunately, Sylvain didn't realize. Not at all during the two weeks of ceremony. And while Yuri still found it hilarious, Glenn was starting to pout. They didn't want that.

"We're not telling him," his competitive asshole of a lover said, "but we need to stop him."

"Okay, okay," Yuri was laughing, "we will, promise."

Satisfied, Glenn nuzzled him a bit closer.

"Sometimes I don't like that you're so pretty," he grumbled, "people only see that."

"Oh? And what do you see?"

"Someone who can keep me on my toes."

"Awww. That's almost cute."

"Heh," he laughed, "that's why I fell in love with you. At least I'm honest."

Yuri wasn't blushing. He didn't care what anyone said. He nuzzled Glenn back.

"Anyway," time to get out of these mushy feelings, "you definitely lost the Sylvain game."

"We weren't even competing about Sylvain."

"Glenn, we're always competing. Of course we were."

With the way Glenn choked his laughter against his head, they both knew he was right.

A few hours later, Glenn had somehow convinced a pretty blonde teenage girl Yuri remembered seeing around, but not speaking to, that Sylvain had been flirting with lord Gwendal's daughter for two whole weeks. And she went at the red-haired boy, screaming at him.

"And here you called what I did a mean prank," Yuri laughed, "I didn't think you had it in you."

"Heh," Glenn smirked, helping him take off his clothes before bathing, "Sylvain needs to learn that he can't flirt with everything pretty without consequences."

"I meant the girl. She's one of his conquests, isn't she?"

"Her? Oh, no, not at all. She's his best friend, and my fiancée."

Oh.

Like everytime Glenn mentioned the young Ingrid, Yuri felt a weird absence of jealousy. He nodded.

"She's cute."

"She likes eating," Glenn answered easily, shedding off his own coat, "cook her something good and you'll get along just fine."

He stepped into the baths. Yuri devoured him with his gaze, taking on all the fine muscles that made up his handsome body.

"Good to know," he said airily, "now where were we already?"

Let it be known that steam only made every kiss feel more intimate.

*

It had never been complicated to guess why, exactly, Rowe had wanted to adopt him, a mere village boy who had fluttered his eyelashes the right way once and showed he had a crest. Yuri had never known _where_ that crest came from, he didn’t know who his father was so it was probably him, but in any case, a pretty smile, a fake name and a rare major crest were all that had been needed for the Count to decide he wanted him in his household. The crest prestige might have sufficed, but Yuri’s charm had definitely helped. There was also no doubt that some nobles could have penchants that were better left unsaid and that it could have made him invaluable if their presence had come to play. He was good at bribing favours with just a pretty, pouty face, and then sharing the rewards among his thieves, had always been.

Fortunately for Yuri, it hadn’t been necessary, even though he had expected as much when he had made that choice. Unfortunately for him, his unknown crest had brought curiosity, but not enough prestige to Rowe, so the Lord had been seeing him as an investment that hadn’t been worthwile yet, and that made asking for favours much harder.

"But imagine," he was telling him, "just how much more useful I'll be once I graduated! The connections, the information, the insight into other noble houses... They might also manage to study my crest in more detail, there."

Rowe was scowling, clearly not convinced. He looked as if he wanted that conversation to stop, right now and Yuri understood why. They had been having it for the last week. Even since he had heard of a certain someone's surprise admittance to the Officer's Academy. Yuri hadn't given up in front of his adoptive father's obvious hesitance. He wouldn't. Going to Garreg Mach had always been one of the main reasons he had wanted to tempt the lord into adopting him. But now? He had extra motivation _not_ to take his time before going there.

"I heard you the first thousand times," Rowed spat, "and it's not as if I could let any child bearing my colours without the necessary education to make me proud. But the academy is _difficult_ when it comes to sending children beneath sixteen years old to them, and I have no proof that you’ll actually honour me by going there. So why exactly would I go through that hassle when I could just wait one more year and spare myself the headache of praising abilities you might not even have?"

"That's simple," Yuri smiled nicely, too nicely for it to be sincere, "the sooner you send me there, the sooner I, a lowly peasant you were good enough to adopt, will get out of your hair."

*

**Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1176**

Garreg Mach was beautiful. Yuri wasn't the kind of person easily impressed by architecture, he tended to look at it more in a practical way (where could he hide from view, what secrets held the walls for him to use to his advantage, how to sneak in, how to sneak out...), but the monastery was absolutely gorgeous.

That was it. That was the goal he had been working to reach, for entire years, the thing he had promised to his mother when he had fomented this crazy plan of his. Education, a diploma from the best academy in all of Fodlan. The prestigious Garreg Mach, the monastery that was home to the most eminent of the Church members. The place for his dreams to come true. That was it, he was there, even sooner than he had expected, all thanks to how he had pestered Rowe just so he could be with a certain someone.

Speaking of, he took a great total of one minute to savour his success. He needed to find Glenn.

It probably wouldn't be that hard, in truth. He was pretty sure his lover was the only one here that belonged to high nobility, this year, what with being the heir apparent of the second most powerful family in Faerghus. So people would be flocking to him, hoping for favours or to strike a friendship with such an important person. Social advancement, the true reason so many people came here.

'Not that hard' turned out harder than he thought. The place was _gigantic_ and so grand he stopped almost everywhere to admire it and plan the best travelling ways and escape routes, as he tended to do. The marketplace was very tempting, but he couldn't steal something on the first day, not even as provocation for Rowe. He needed to behave for a while, after all. But more importantly, he couldn't seem to find Glenn just by walking around.

Well, he figured after a while, he just needed to follow the trail of disgruntled people, didn't he?

The students around him, for the most part, were barely looking at the gorgeous scenery, more busy with gossip, meetings and introductions. Yuri had done away with the most expensive parts of his uniform, knowing it'd keep the other nobles away from him, letting him wander without being stopped every two steps. He was almost skipping when he reached the knight's hall.

And there he was.

The most beautiful sight, the ugly mug with a gorgeous face he loved so much. He wasn't looking at him, too busy listening to a knight of Faerghus, though with how furrowed his brow was, Yuri suspected he really didn't like what said knight was saying and was staying silent out of the same wish Yuri had: not create a commotion on the first day.

Time to save his lover before he hit someone he wasn't supposed to.

"Hey, you're the Fraldarius heir, right?" he drawled, his voice low as he came closer.

He could see Glenn's shoulder square up, as if expecting a fight. The knight stopped, looking at him with a bit of annoyance. Glenn turned.

And his jaw dropped.

The shock on his face was wonderful to see and it took all of Yuri's willpower not to start giggling like a silly little boy. Instead he smirked, twirling his hair - finally long enough again - holding his hand out and reveling in his victory.

"Nice to meet you. Though we already know each other."

It took Glenn a few more seconds to shake himself out of his stupor, but once he did, his smile was blinding and oh, Yuri was soft, that was the very expression he had hoped to see and he would treasure it forever.

"We do indeed," Glenn said, shaking his hand and then keeping it held, firmly, "Gustave, would you mind we have that discussion another time? This is something that needs my attention."

"Another fight?" the knight sighed deeply.

"In a way," Glenn answered evasively, "thank you."

Gustave shook his head.

"I'll be leaving tonight," he reminded the young man, "do warn me before if you need anything, if you may."

"Sure," Glenn said without listening, eyes stuck on Yuri's.

Finally, finally, the man left. Yuri’s hand was still held firmly in Glenn’s.

"Aren't you supposed to let go of my hand after a shake?" Yuri said teasingly.

"Please," Glenn answered, leaning in to get closer, muttering, "I know you only wanted to hold my hand."

And Yuri laughed. Joy was such a wonderful feeling.

"I do," he answered lovingly, "oh, I do."

"What was that tone of voice?" Glenn said with amazed hilarity. "I didn't recognize you when you spoke."

"Perfect, that was exactly what I hoped for."

"You're a little shit."

"To be fair, that's why you love me."

And Glenn barked a laugh too, his arms shivering with the effort not to embrace him in public. Already there were eyes turning towards them as the surly knight showed more elation than was clearly expected of him. Glenn's reputation preceded him after all.

"That is, indeed," he admitted with good humour, throwing an arm behind Yuri's shoulders. "Shall we go to the training grounds? That's where most people expect us to go after such a demonstration on my part."

"Depends, will we be brawling? I see you already can't take your hands off me."

"You drive a hard bargain, mister. But indeed, maybe we should find out what my bedroom looks like first and then figure out the terms of our duel."

The eyes he turned to Yuri then, though teasing, were predatory and Yuri _loved it_.

"After all," he said with a low voice, "we both know how much I enjoy being on top of things."

"Earn it first," Yuri answered, lips stretched in what probably wasn't his prettiest smile, but he didn't really have as much control over himself as he hoped, right now, "but you know I'll make you work for it."

"Oh, I'm counting on it. I'm counting on it."

*

Hours later as they embraced, it still seemed like a dream.

"You're here," Glenn mumbled against his back, still awed, "I can't believe that you're here."

Yuri laughed and held his hands, enjoying the embrace.

"When I heard you were going to the academy, I might have harassed Rowe until he let me come too. I wasn't supposed to go until next year, but I have my ways."

"You're evil," Glenn smiled.

"But I'm yours."

"Oh, I don't think you can belong to anyone, you wild creature. Don't pretend I'm more important that I really am."

He was right, surely, but if he had to belong to one person, one day, Yuri wanted it to be his knight.

"I have no idea why you decided to go here, though," Yuri admitted, "you've already been knighted, what more could the academy bring you?"

Glenn hummed, letting his head rest on Yuri's. As intertwined as they were, they felt like only one entity, warm and safe. Yuri turned a bit to nuzzle at his lover's neck.

"A few reasons," Glenn answered sheepishly, "I said I wanted to study strategy and meet future heirs of houses, create bonds between some of them, this kind of thing. The truth is that I may have upset a few of my fellow knights and decided to lay low for a while by going away."

"No," Yuri gasped, "what did you do? You can't say that and not tell me the juicy part!"

Glenn laughed, a deep rumble that vibrated against Yuri.

"I corrected one's footwork, and then said to another one that he should restart learning the sword because his grip was shit, things like that. Gustave had to stop me from punching one, once, because he had said something mean about Sylvain - we are the only ones allowed to be mean to him. Anyway, since I'm the youngest and they think that, at seventeen, I'm still a toddler, they really didn't like it."

"You're impossible," Yuri snorted inelegantly, "you're always getting into trouble when I'm not here. How is it that they all call you the perfect knight?"

"Beats me. But my father was incredibly happy when I gave him my horsecrap reasons for coming here, so I'll try to act like it. Maybe I'll even learn one interesting thing or two."

He gave the crown of Yuri's head a small kiss.

"But you? You are the most wonderful of surprises. I can't believe my incapacity to stay quiet landed me in your arms for one whole year."

"Lucky you," Yuri purred, "and lucky me. Maybe at the end of the year I'll end up a knight and pledge myself to your service."

"If you do that, I might kiss you, right in front of everyone during the knighting ceremony."

"Please do. Lords used to do that a few centuries ago. You can pretend it's you adopting old traditions once again."

"Sounds like a plan."

They shared a small chuckle. Yuri kissed his collarbone.

"We have our introductory classes in a few minutes," Glenn smirked against him, "I'd like to make a good impression and not be late."

"Heh," Yuri mumbled, "shame."

"We'll have time after."

"I sure hope so."

*

The months flew by. Monthly mission after monthly mission, they worked side by side, always so efficient, the envy of their classmates. Yuri trained in swords and Faith magic, quickly learning a reputation as the fastest of his class, fighting dirty and more importantly, winning. Glenn also, of course, had been making a name for himself. The insufferable genius that the Archbishop seemed to like for some reason. Which, yes, she sure did. Though she did like Yuri too. In fact, she had come to them more than once.

The first time, it had been a complete accident. They had been supposed to take care of the Pegasi. The creatures were usually kept away from men's hands in battle, despite them not really caring either way. It was a remnant from a time where masculine armors used to wound the winged horses, and so some were still pretty hesitant about changing things back. Too many of these precious creatures had been pushed beyond anything acceptable.

But battle wasn't the pen, so men were very welcome were they to accept to clean up the places. The pretty beast they were taking care of, right now, was named Phandra. Glenn had snorted at that.

"I feel like there are a thousand Pegasi named Phandra. Pretty sure there already was one named that way when my father went here, he said he had a bet about riding it."

"I thought the Archbishop was the one naming the Pegasi," Yuri had answered, "maybe she just doesn't have any more ideas."

A crystalline laugh had answered them. The two young men had frozen before turning at the exact same time.

The beautiful, pristine white dress of the Archbishop wasn't supposed to end up in such a place, and yet here the woman was, looking sweet and serene as always, her soft smile everlasting. Yuri felt his brain freeze, wondering why, exactly, a woman in such a high position would come down here. They were just joking about her, oh by the Goddess, thank her graciousness, she didn't seem to be offended.

"You are not that far from the truth," she said with a happy tone of voice.

Glenn stammered, lost and unsure. How did one speak to the one closest to the Goddess? To the supreme authority in the Church? Oh, they had already seen her, of course, but talked? Not really, no, their teacher was the one who got their assignments from her after all.

"L-Lady Rhea?" Yuri squeaked despite himself.

She didn’t seem to mind his outburst and walked closer.

"As long as I have been here," the Archbishop kept with her small smile, "it has been a wish of mine that there would always be a Pegasus named Phandra at Garreg Mach. It is a memory, from a dear friend of mine."

She was speaking to them? Why was she speaking to them? They were so beneath her! Even Glenn seemed absolutely shocked, and contrary to Yuri, he hadn't spent years expecting nobles to ignore him. Yet here he was, talking with one of the most powerful women in Fodlan. And she was smiling, as if he was a friend!

It was hard not to pinch himself.

Then she had turned to Glenn and her smile had become wistful.

"You are Lord Rodrigue's heir, are you not?"

"Wha- Er, yeah? Yeah, I am."

Not minding his squeaking, she had nodded softly.

"You are a lot like a good friend I used to have," she sighed.

And then, she had petted the Pegasus for a few moments. The horse had nuzzled her hand and exhaled loudly. Lady Rhea had smiled, then turned to them again.

"I shall leave you to your work," she had said, "thank you for your company."

The whole meeting had felt like a hallucination, a dream. Yet, she had come to them again. It was never much, just small pieces of advice, wondering about their studies, asking if they were doing all right. Yuri was pretty sure it was just because of that 'friend' Glenn reminded her of, but it was still... kind. Nice. She didn't expect anything from them except for company, maybe a few smiles. And the way she smiled when Glenn was happy about something, both remote and so happy at the same time Yuri just _knew_ whoever that friend was had been deeply precious to her.

Yuri remembered staring at pieces of paper, at night, wondering how to explain to his mother, fervent devout as she was, that he had the opportunity to drink tea with the Archbishop herself.

"I do not dare speaking with students much," Lady Rhea admitted to them one day as they were making sure the Cathedral was ready for Choir practice, "I fear I might be accused of favouritism. But this self-imposed isolation is wearing me down, I will admit. Meeting you with the Pegasus and having a story to tell you was... a stroke of luck, if I may say so."

"Maybe you could try to talk to people progressively?" Glenn answered. He had gone past his shock and embarrassment much quicker than Yuri had, to no one’s surprise. "Come to see choir practice once in a while. Visit classrooms if you have time. And then one day you're eating with everyone in the dining hall and no one bats an eye."

"How lovely that sounds," the woman sighed, "I hope it is feasible, but I fear it won’t be. Though it saddens me how many generations of students I've seen come and go, knowing most of them I never even heard talk."

It was that day, probably, that Yuri realized just how lonely a woman the Archbishop was. Not just the person closest to the Goddess. A woman. A person. With feelings. One with an ethereal image, one of serene and firm authority, never allowed to break in public or show the emotions blurring her mind. In just a few months, Yuri had seen her show grief, joy and resigned despair, no matter how remote. He knew most people didn’t even have the honour of seeing that, they would just see a serene face, with warm eyes staring at nothing. The woman closest to the Goddess wasn’t allowed to be human.

He wondered how many other people were usually seen so much from afar they didn't seem like people anymore.

"I am not supposed to play favourites," she admitted once they were done, "but it is a vice of mine that I have never been able to keep at bay. I will be praying for your victory during the Battle, next month."

The Battle of the Eagle and the Lion. They had been waiting for that for months, ever since the year had started. As class representative, it was obvious that Glenn had already been thinking about ways to take the advantage. But now, they had an Archbishop to please.

The two young men exchanged a glance. It was time to put their heads together, wasn't it?

*

They stayed in class after the lessons ended, looking at a board game arranged to look like a map of Gronder. After exchanging a few ideas, Glenn sighed and looked at Yuri.

"Do you know when was the last time the heir of a noble house came to Garreg Mach?"

"Not really, no."

"It was just a few years ago, Holst Goneril." Glenn said, and then he groaned. "We only met once, when I was thirteen. He said Lixie was cute, but not as cute as his little sister and I've disliked him ever since, but the man is strong and already was as a teen. He basically won the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion by himself, he's been heralded as the standard for great heirs. He's what we're really fighting against this year."

"You mean that a man who came here years ago is the real enemy?"

"The impression he left, mostly. Because there's no way we can hold up to it, it's the stuff of legends now, and the reality can't defeat legends."

"What a shame. I guess we'll have to win spectacularly, then."

The glint in Glenn's eyes was beautiful. He was very bad for Yuri's sense of focus, that was for sure.

"So," he smirked, "we're going to need your brain."

"I knew you were only using me for my smarts."

"Please, we both know you're even prettier than you're smart. I'd use you for your looks and then you'd kill me while I still, dumbly, think I'm ahead of you, that's how it works."

"Heh. Fair enough."

Yuri looked at the map, a small thought occurring to him.

"There aren't many great heirs coming here at the same time, are there? If our biggest opponent isn't even here anymore. Nothing impressive?"

"Not really, no. There was Cassandra of house Charon the year before Holst, but nothing since."

"I don't know what's worse, having to measure against someone who isn't here, or having the pressure of facing your equal. Because in the first case, all eyes are on you, but in the second, there's the guarantee that at least one person will have to disappoint their whole country."

Glenn winced.

"Indeed. But you know what's funny about that?"

"No, but I have the feeling that you're about to tell me?"

"Well, it's not said that they'll come the same year, but our prince is around the same age as Gloucester's boy."

"... you wrinkled your nose when you said that, what do you have against that kid?"

"The kid? Nothing, I never met him. But his father is a slimy jerk and I hate him. But with the current state of house Riegan, he's the most likely next leader of the Alliance."

"A shame," Yuri said with amusement, "but I'm starting to wonder, really... Glenn, my ugliest of mugs, is there one nobleman in all of Fodlan you actually like?"

The knight stayed silent for a while, eyebrows furrowed as he actually had to _think_.

"Well," he ended up mumbling sheepishly,"I like my family, my friends and the King. Also you, of course."

"I don't count."

"I don't care, yes you count. I guess I didn't dislike Cassandra of house Charon the one time I met her? Goddess, there really aren't many that I like. Lord Galatea, Ingrid's father isn't the worst person either, but the lack of money is forcing him to make choices I dislike."

Like marrying his daughter to me was what he didn't say, but what Yuri knew he thought. And honestly, it was probably the best choice both for Glenn and for the young lady. If Galatea really needed a strong alliance, then better a childhood friend she got along with than any old bachelor who wanted a crest in his family.

"Well, hopefully," Yuri snorted, "things will change with us. I can't imagine you letting things stand that way."

"You're damn right about that," Glenn’s smirk was a beautiful thing.

They won the battle. Of course.

**9th Day of the Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1176**

"I thought that letter was for your birthday, are they serious?" Yuri groaned. "The King has how many knights already?"

"Too many," Glenn laughed as he packed a small bag, "but my father is paranoid and Dimitri has apparently been pouting for days because Lixie couldn't come with him. So it was a good compromise."

Stretching like a cat, Yuri plunged his head in the mattress, strangling an annoyed sound in his throat.

"Come on," Glenn laughed at him, "it's not going to be all that long. A few weeks at most. I will be back for our monthly assignment, you'll see."

"I know," Yuri said, and he did know, but the idea of not being able to spend time with Glenn tended to turn him into a bratty whiner, "but still. Are you seriously going there just so a kid doesn't feel too lonely?"

"Now now, the kid is our crown prince and one of the most adorable faces you might ever get the pleasure of meeting. Also I kind of miss him. And I'll get to see my brother quickly before leaving. He's probably been killing father, now that he can't bother me."

Yuri smiled despite himself. He was such a big brother, always gushing about the two boys as if they were the world's biggest treasure. He could barely feel mad at them for stealing his lover away, when the idea of seeing them made him so happy.

“With the way things are going," Yuri sighed, "I'll only meet them once they're grave faced adults. I hope you have paintings of them as kids."

"That honestly would be so sad. I don't want to think of them as adults, they're babies!"

"They're just two years younger than me."

"I don’t care. They’ll always be babies to me. Say what? Once we're done in Duscur, I'll try to convince my father to come visit us with Lixie. If we're lucky, these two will refuse to be separated again and I'll get to bring Dimitri too."

Yuri would be lying if that didn't sound cute as heck and very appealing. He had actually never had the honour of meeting anyone from Glenn's family and was kind of dying to. His eyes must have betrayed him because his lover smirked.

"You will be swayed to the cause of cuteness, dearest, you will."

"I already am," Yuri said, fakely sweet, "but anyone would look cute beside you, my ugly mug. So I don't have high expectations."

Glenn very maturely stuck his tongue at him. Then he bent down and kissed the crown of his head, soft.

"Hey. I promise you this won't take long."

"I know," Yuri laughed, "I'm just used to you by now. I guess I'll have to learn how to spend two weeks without your presence."

**19th day of the Red Wolf Moon, Imperial Year 1176**

Duscur was a tragedy.

The news shook the entirety of Fodlan when they came. The king of Faerghus had been killed, along with his wife and his entire retinue of knights. The only survivors were the young prince and an old knight who was planning to leave the Kingdom in shame for his failure to save the king.

The only survivors.

Yuri was in class when they learnt about it. He didn't even remember what they were studying, just the knight of Seiros who entered briskly, face pale and sick, to tell them about it.

Things had been a mess, kids running to write to their parents, some of them wanting them home, right now, many houses had lost heirs or family, everyone was in tears, horrified, grieving. Yuri had just been one among the others.

It had been an empty thing, and then, some kind of sick pain, rushing up his spine as he remembered collapsing on his chair, not even crying, just in shock.

The next days, in truth, had been a blur. The whole Blue Lions class had been, really, most of them recalled to their homes while others were simply excused from class. Yuri had locked himself up in his room. Well, Glenn's room. But he had spent more time there than in his own room. No one had noticed.

One day, he couldn't have said which one, there had been a light knock. He had no idea why he had opened the door, feeling as if the ground was about to eat him alive and like he wouldn't mind.

The Archbishop.

Lady Rhea didn't even try to smile. Her sad eyes didn't stop her from looking serene, but she was still calm and proper. Yuri hated her, for a second. How dare she exist and be fine when Glenn...

Just thinking his name was enough to make him want to tear up. But Glenn had died protecting Dimitri, hadn't he? What would he think of Yuri's tears? So he swallowed them down and lowered his eyes.

"There is no shame in being in pain," she said, softly, "but I heard that no one has seen you eat the slightest thing for two days. Please, would you dine with me?"

Even overwhelmed with anguish, even sadder than grey stones on the ground, one didn't just say no to the Archbishop.

Dinner was a quiet affair, but at the end of it, he had to admit to feeling a bit more human. The Archbishop's quarters were a beautiful place that most people never had the honour of seeing, and so was the Sky Terrace, a beautiful small garden, looking over the Monastery. It was a place dedicated to watching the stars, Lady Rhea told him softly. Yuri felt he should have felt honoured, but part of him could only care about how unfair it was, that Glenn, who she liked so much, couldn't come here and be an idiot, sitting on the edge and making Yuri scared he would fall. Anything and everything reminded him of Glenn. Anything and everything was nothing but distressing.

"Young man," Rhea said at the end, "I can only remember your pain. A long time ago, I lost my mother... my family, really. It still pains me to this day."

The idea of losing his mother was a punch in the heart. Oh, how he wished she were there, able to hold him and cradle him through the pain. Some irrational part of him thought that maybe, were she there, she could fix everything, as she had always done. For a small moment of weakness, he thought of leaving the place and going back to her, in his small village from Western Faerghus.

"It will never go away?" he questioned hoarsely. "Is that what you're saying."

"Never entirely." She put her hand on the table. "It gets... bearable, we'll say. Grief is love that you can't share anymore, and it hurts. Deeply. I will not lie to you."

"What should I do then?" he asked, miserably. "How do I make it... bearable?"

She had crossed her fingers, in thought.

"I can only speak of my own experience. But if you must know, I found solace in usefulness. I tried to act. To help. To have work that could keep my mind focused on greater things."

"The Blue Lions have been excused. We don't have monthly assignments anymore."

"I have knights who could always be in use of assistance," she said softly, "some of them have already suggested sending students in need of other thoughts to them. I can add your name to the list of those who already are there, if you wish. Please, know that it is in no way binding."

It sounded as bad an idea as any other. So Yuri simply nodded.

He knew these people.

Those who were tied up and silenced, tears in their eyes, most of them youngsters, terrified. All of them thieves, clearly guilty of the crimes the knights holding them were enouncing. He knew them. He hadn't seen them in a while, but he knew them, his guys, his old gang, his _family_.

They were about to execute them.

They would die? Like Glenn?

He would lose them too?

It wasn't until he was untying them, shaking hands covered in blood, he realized what he had done.

Yuri didn't flee. He didn't even get to free all of his friends so they'd escape. A monk found them, looking horrified by the sight. He alerted the knights.

Yuri still wasn't sure how he wasn't executed. The monk pleaded for him, he believed? Wasn't he the monk that had sent him on that mission in the first place? What was he doing here?

Lost in his shock, Yuri didn't understand much. The monk said all the thieves had escaped, but they hadn't, Yuri knew they hadn't, not all of them. What was going on?

Before he knew it, his mind had found something to focus on and he felt himself calm down. There was something wrong there and his desperate brain decided it was what it should focus on rather than the overwhelming panic that had been surrounding him.

He wasn't executed, he should have been executed. This kind of offense didn't even need a bishop's judgement, just his head, cut clean from his body. Yet he wasn't executed, just sent underground. And the monk, Aelfric, was smiling delicately, as if patting himself on the back not for saving a poor confused soul, but for succeeding in getting something he had wanted for a while.

That very night, he escaped Abyss. It was so intricate it was almost too easy. This place was made so you could sneak in and out easily. It only took him one hour to do what he had planned. First, he left a word in the Archbishop's Sky Terrace. Short and concise, but she'd know who it was from. 

The letter just said two words.

**Watch Aelfric.**

Then, with no reason to stay here and nowhere to go, he rode south.

The Varley estate was a miserable place, full of crooks and uncaring nobles. It hadn't taken long for Yuri to find his old habits again, stealing what he needed, smiling at the right people, using every weapon in his arsenal to simply survive, too ashamed to go back, but too resolved to simply die.

In the end it had been a man with a lisp and a gold tooth who had given him the job.

"You kid," he had crooned, "you're great at getting in and out of places, aren't you?"

Not a theft this time. An assassination, earning money that could feed him for months. Yuri hesitated for a few seconds. And then his stomach growled, and he accepted.

Bernadetta Varley was so small and shy he had to stop and regain his bearings when he realized she was his target. She jumped and hid at the first noise. And yet, when he smiled softly at her, once, still pretending to be there to assist the gardener, she hesitated, and then smiled back.

She was adorable. Her big eyes always fell on him with admiration and she kept exclaiming how great he was, while still being skittish. A small, fearful kitty he was learning to befriend and was starting to adopt. 

A small, fearful kitty he was supposed to kill.

He stalled. Again and again, pretending difficulties he didn’t have, using the opportunity to contact his gang and make sure those who had escaped were okay. Maybe they would have time to get him out of there before he had to actually act on this terrible job.

Yuri was strong. But his employer had the advantage of having his own gang with him, when he confronted him. Yuri was strong, and fast, and could probably down quite a few of them.

Not all, though, not all. And he wanted to hang on to life, no matter how much he wasn’t sure he deserved it anymore.

Self-hatred in his throat, he went to Bernadetta, a knife in his hand.

In the end, he couldn't do it. He shook and wondered, like in shock, how he had ended up there. Was this really who he had been wanting to become? Was this what all of his efforts led to? Just another petty crook and killer? Was this the man he had promised his mother he'd become? Was this the one Glenn had loved?

When Count Varley and his men beat him up, clearly intending to kill him, he didn't fight back.

He woke up, among corpses, with his crest shining softly, on his chest. He just stared at it, unsure. He had never gone to professor Hanneman’s office to get it studied. For as long as he could remember, the power had been there, sitting inside him. But he had never known what it did, what power it held. He didn’t know what crest it was, he didn’t know what it gave him.

He just knew, instinctively, that without it, it wasn’t the first time he would have been dead.

He stood, bruised and wounded, but still alive. Vaguely, he knew he couldn't stay there. So he left again, like he had left Garreg Mach. Aimlessly, without any purpose.

He ended up in Enbarr. Where he stole, again, and again.

Enbarr was a beautiful city, not as practical as what he had seen of Fhirdiad and far from the dreamy depictions of Derdriu, but it was definitely a work of art. The City of Seiros, as it used to be called, held so much old art, from statues to paintings, all clearly inspired by Faith, that it was enough to bring tears to his eyes and wonder how Lady Rhea was. Maybe it was arrogant of him to hope that she missed him, but he definitely missed her quiet smiles and exhausted, yet serene stares.

Had he stayed at the monastery, he realized, he would have graduated a few months ago.

Garreg Mach sounded like another life, and maybe it had been. Maybe these almost three years with Glenn had been nothing but a dream, a small blessing of the Goddess, showing him what he wasn't allowed to have, just so he could keep the memories to feel warm at night.

That night he hid in the Opera house ceiling, to keep away from those who would cut his throat.

He was woken up by singing. Maybe it shouldn't have surprised him, he was in an opera house after all, but it was beautiful. The songstresses, warming up their voices before a big show. One of them, so young, around his own age, and yet outshining all the others.

He stayed there the whole show, transfixed. It was beautiful. Amazing. How he wished to have had the opportunity of learning how to use his voice like that, growing up.

He came back a few times. And always, that young songstress kept stealing the show. He could see the men, congratulating her, leaving disgruntled. As he sneaked around, ready to steal one's money pouch, he heard them.

"What a harlot," one was saying, sounding offended, "refusing us? A street rat like her, who would refuse the attention of nobles like us? Who does she think she is!"

"A phenomenon," the other answered with a scoff, "beloved by everyone. She thinks she has it all, all thanks to her voice and beauty. Wait for her to lose them, she'll grovel for forgiveness."

A street rat? That diva?

Nausea rushed through him. So she didn't have any advantage over him in the end? Too proud to accept nobles' favour. Too talented not to succeed anyway. And she had their attention, now. They loved her, they wanted her. She could have used them if she were just a little more despicable. Despicable like he was.

Well if she wouldn't...

Later, hesitant, he recalled what he had seen them practice.

And he started singing.

It took him a few weeks. Studying the songstresses, how they exercised, reproducing it, learning the songs by heart just by spying on them. And then, he started being good enough. 

And pretty enough.

All these spurned nobles, they turned to him. He got their favour and their money, he got their secrets and their influence. He built his own again, easily, making contact with gangs and using all of his assets, from intelligence to strength and charm, until he led all those he was interested in. He extended his web all around, thanks to those he had known forever, thanks to those he had known back in Rowe, thanks to disavowed knights and deserters who used to know him, thanks to the _interesting_ info he learnt in bed. He walked underground as he gained power and influence, all through the profitable market of secrets and blackmail. He was ruthless and dangerous, the Savage Mockingbird they started calling him in the streets, the man who had gangs of thieves, in all of Fodlan, under his thumb.

He built his own Empire, away from daylight and the daily worries of common people. All he had to give, in exchange, was all he was. He hadn't been a virgin in... probably far too long, but every night he became one again for them if he needed to. He was used, and he used, again and again, singing for them and hating himself more with each passing second. Every time he listened to her, Dorothea Arnault, the one he replaced in their bedrooms, he remembered how she had gotten the scene and influence through sheer talent. And yet here _he_ was.

Powerful, yes. But so Goddess-damned dirty.

Days went by as he built himself up again. His wealth and influence grew. His wish to live started dying out.

Until the man, the one who had caused it all, came back.

Not Rowe, no. He almost wished he could have seen his adoptive father's face, finding him a prostitute in Empire men's bed. Finding the results of his wish to obtain prestige, so thoroughly wrecked, yet with more power than he himself would ever have. Yes, this could almost have been funny. Unfortunately, it wasn't Rowe who found him.

It was the monk, Aelfric.

"You gave me quite the runaround", the man said with a soft smile, "but now it's time to go home."

Yuri didn't want to follow. Not to Garreg Mach and its Glenn-shaped heartaches. Aelfric just smiled again and handed him a letter.

A letter from his mother.

Locked inside Garreg Mach, at the monk's discretion of course. A threat, about what would happen to her were he not to follow.

So Yuri swallowed his pride, feeling newfound fury surging through him. Purpose. Anger. Who cared how much he hated himself, who cared what a lowly creature he was.

This man would pay.

**21st day of the Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1178**

Yuri went home.

Lady Rhea found him on the second evening. She hadn't come inside Abyss, no, the Archbishop couldn't go near that place without attracting too many eyes. But she had sent word, and Yuri sneaked out again.

In the night, the Cathedral was empty. Eerie in a sense, but still every bit as beautiful. It was so simple, yet so gorgeous, Enbarr looked decadent with its abundance of art. He wasn't the kind to prefered sober and discrete, but he had missed that simple prestance. More present, yet less overwhelming. It sounded sincere. Not here to show off. A bouquet of flowers, compared to roses made of molten gold.

He wondered what Glenn would have thought of Enbarr. Somehow, he supposed his nobility-hating noble would have hated it.

Lady Rhea sat by his side, staring ahead.

"We followed your advice," she said slowly after a while, "Aelfric has indeed been planning to use Abyss. To what purpose, we know not. But the fact that he followed you to Enbarr, more than a year after your disappearance, shows that you are to play a role."

He nodded. Silent.

"We have not been able to catch him in the act," the Archbishop added, "I hate to ask that of you, but you are the only one who might find himself privy to his plan."

"I know," he said, "I will listen to him. Learn what he's planning."

"This will be dangerous."

"I know."

"If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know."

"For sure."

She should have left then. Safety ordered it. Yet, she hesitated. Remnants of a friendship neither had dared call that way, a relationship cut before it could properly start. He still trusted her. And she still trusted him. That was that, at least.

"Do you know how you will proceed?"

Yes," he said, smiling. Wasn't it her, who had told him to occupy his mind? Perfect. Anger, fury and revenge were burning in his gut. He had found just what he needed. "I know what I will do. First, I'm going to do what I'm best at."

"And what shall it be?" with the way her serene smile had turned knowing, she really didn't need to ask that question.

Even at the monastery, people knew of the Savage Mockingbird.

"I will rule Abyss," he said simply, "I will have everyone in there listening to me in no time. Thugs? Ruffians? Crooks? I know them, I know how to talk to them. So I will. And once they'll obey me? I'll have all the power I need."

 _Look at me, Glenn,_ he thought vindictively, _look at me being all smart and petty. I will make you proud._

* *

*

**20th day of the Ethereal Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

Yuri opened his notebook, tracing the first name written in it lovingly. Glenn's letters had been almost erased by tears and use, it had taken a long time for him to look at the name fondly, the pain mostly a dull ache now. That didn't mean it actually stopped hurting, oh no.

In the last years, there hadn't been one second in which he had stopped missing his lover, desperately. Time was the only thing that could heal that wound, he suspected, but even that wasn't a certainty. The fact that it was now bearable, not like it was when he had first landed into Abyss, was already almost inconceivable for him.

It was hard to think that Glenn had been gone longer than Yuri had known him; his presence in Yuri's life was a red-hot mark, the kind of which could never be erased. How had they known each other for not even three years when Yuri had felt like he had started living when he met him and like he had died when he learnt about Duscur. He thought himself a pragmatic man, but clearly, his feelings did not get that memo.

Closing his notebook, Yuri wondered how much harder people who had known Glenn longer, better, took his loss. With how nightmarish his life had been until then, Yuri had never expected that he could spiral down so much due to one simple loss. So what about his family, his friends, or his dear fiancee, as platonic as their relationship was?

Seeing Felix - Glenn's dear little Lixie - had been part of an answer and he didn't know if he felt better or worse when he realized that he definitely wasn't alone in the ‘I loved Glenn Fraldarius and his death destroyed me’ club.

Shaking himself, he put the notebook back into his pocket. Today was supposed to be a slow day, the residents of Abyss didn't need his presence, which meant that he could go to class and help Byleth tutor the brats, probably flirt with Claude for fun, probably avoid Felix's eyes and apologize mentally to Glenn for flirting with his little brother a few times, probably try to coax more Faith magic tutoring out of Marianne, learning that Silence spell... Slow day in Abyss meant a busy day on the surface. Busy day on the surface meant more weapons for him to defend Abyss with. He needed to send a letter to his mother too, she was probably worried sick with how long it had taken him...

As he was about to leave for the surface, he stopped for a second, frowning. He needed to check on something first. Someplace.

He barely entered the library, surveilling the rows of books and documents and - yeah of course, he expected it, that was why he had looked wasn't it?

Claude had fallen asleep against the shelves. Or he was just resting his eyes, his hand was still holding what he was reading firmly. When Yuri stepped loudly inside and Claude's eyes opened immediately. He smiled at him, waving happily, clearly wide awake.

"You really need to find a way to keep an eye on time down here, friend," Yuri saluted him, "it's time for class, and I'd wager you didn't sleep a wink last night."

"When do I ever?" Claude laughed. "I'll have a nap after my chores, don't you worry."

"I wish you wouldn't stop at a nap," Yuri sighed, amused despite himself, "even great future Dukes need a good night's sleep."

"Semantics," Claude clicked his tongue, "sleep is sleep.

He might need a Hilda intervention, one of these days. Or they'd find their friend crashing and burning down in exhaustion.

"Friend." he said simply, tone heavy. It was the severe tone. The 'don't make me use your real name in public' tone. If there was one tone of voice that could make Claude listen and get down from his information high, it'd be that one.

Almost contrite, the young man closed his book. The frown of his eyebrows was frustrated.

"I know," he said, "I _know_. But I just... need to know more."

"And why is that?"

"You know why. After what happened in Remire... There are too many things we don't know. And I only have a few moons left here, I need to find as much as I can before I leave."

Ah, yes, Remire. Yuri nodded, feeling his stomach knotting itself over when thinking about the slaughter. No one had felt okay afterwards. Even he, used to humankind's more monstrous aspects, had then spent the night praying, dazed, asking for guidance and mercy. He knew, logically, that none of the killings had anything to do with him. But ever since that night with Bernadetta, the mere idea of killing civilians, people who didn’t have anything to do with any dispute, was enough to freeze him solid at times. And it was obvious why his sweet leader, so kind beneath his fake smiles, would have a hard time finding any sleep until he found an explanation, a solution, a way to stop it from ever happening again. But...

"You still need your beauty sleep," he said with a mocking huff, "the ball is happening soon. You want to be at your peak, there."

"I'll be," Claude scoffed, gathering his papers and closing the books, "you have no idea how much time I can go without sleeping with no one noticing."

"Should you really brag about that?"

"With you? Definitely."

He winked, making Yuri snort despite himself. Charming little asshole. There was a small something about him that reminded him of Glenn, maybe it was the irreverence (though Claude was much better at pretending respect and diplomacy than Glenn had ever been), maybe it was the pranking or the love of challenge. It was however all drowned by his intelligence and his way with words, these were much more of a Yuri thing.

Claude had told him once that he had a hard time finding Yuri hateable. Yuri felt very much the same way towards him.

"Even once you leave," he said, "I'll keep this library in good shape. This way, whenever the Alliance nobles weigh too much on your mind, you can come here and get your fix of knowledge."

"Wouldn't that be great." Claude sighed, a small, sad smile on his lips.

It wouldn't happen and they both knew it. Sure, as long as Claude led the Alliance it _might_ be a possibility, though difficult. But the moment he would go back to Almyra, visiting would be all but impossible.

Khalid, Khalid. That true name, unwillingly shared in a moment of vulnerability, a name that changed anything and nothing at the same time. The greatest secret Yuri had ever heard, and the one he had resolved to never use. Not every noble deserved to be betrayed and used, especially one who knew the value of trust so much.

If you can't come to me, Yuri thought for a moment, then I'll come to you. If you become a leader I want to follow, I will. I promise you, I will.

Yuri had been some kind of leader too, for a long time, taking care of his own and working hard to help those he could reach. And yet, he considered it. He wasn’t sure if it said more about how tired he was, or how much he respected the boy (the man, he was young, but an adult all the same) in front of him.

"Come on," he ended up saying, reaching his hand out to his friend, "we need a bit of sunlight, I think."

The Ball was going to be a beautiful thing. Yuri couldn't know how it had been during his year, he had already left Garreg Mach back then, was probably trying to murder Bernadetta at the time.

"Not like that," Flayn was telling them, trying to explain to them her own dancing lessons, "you need it to be more fluid. If it shakes, the energy will shake too, and sputter out."

Raphael groaned, but he nodded and tried to fix the way he was moving. The ball was tonight, Yuri thought with amusement, did they really need to study this now? Well, apparently the professor thought so. She was looking at Raphael and Leonie, the ones being instructed at the moment. Flayn had received her certification pretty quickly after winning the White Heron cup, and then had started teaching them. And these two? Well, they were obviously the only ones in their whole group to lack basics about dancing. It made sense if she wanted them to have a good time during the ball.

He wondered when professor Eisner would make him pass the certification exam, like she had already done for Hilda. Claude probably wouldn't be far behind, likewise for Lorenz. And despite him clearly trying to disappear every time he was dancing, Felix too.

Felix.

Yuri bit his lip, feeling his mind drift as it often did these days, when he tried to reconcile the vision he had of a child he had never met and the young man who had become... his sparring partner. Yuri wanted to call him a friend, he really did, but could he in good faith when he had unknowingly been chasing a ghost all the time they had spent together?

It had been a miserable mistake on his part, for sure.

He had not checked. He had known about the younger Fraldarius being the right age, but he had avoided the Blue Lions house since he left it, telling Hapi or Constance to take care of anything involving them, knowing that if he knew, if he just KNEW the younger brother was there...

He would have lost to curiosity and grief.

But he had figured, after Claude's request to join his class for the rest of the year, that it was alright. It was just half a year, he'd stay in Abyss most of the time, only joining the Deers during classes and missions... He wouldn't ever have to interact with the Lions, he could just... Avoid them for his last year there.

Felix had been a Golden Deer when he'd arrived. So Yuri hadn't wondered much, blinding himself and deciding to ignore the blatant signs. He'd looked at him, figured him out quickly, enjoyed his brash but honest attitude and his sharp tongue, loved his skill with a sword even more, admired his delicate features like one admires a painting, he also was maybe a bit in love with how perfectly his ears turned red whenever they managed to rile him up, but they all were truth being told, Yuri was far from being the first.

It was all fun and games until it turned out that who he had thought to be an upstart young Alliance noble warrior was a Fraldarius.

The Fraldarius younger brother.

Why was he among the deers? No, it didn't matter. Students could transfer for a plethora of reasons. He should have seen it. Hell, he had seen it but refused to accept it, without any doubt. He knew all about the Golden Deers, there had to have been some willful ignorance on his part to have ignored that boy before he had learnt his full name, by accident, barely a few minutes before he had learnt Claude’s real name too.

Felix Hugo Fraldarius.

Of course.

How had he not seen it before?

The inky blue hair, the perfect nose, the sharp almond eyes, the elegant features even though Felix was prettier where Glenn had been more handsome...

It was as if four years of painstakingly focusing away from the pain had been nothing, as the grief had rushed inside his gut, like a punch to the teeth or a Lightning spell through the chest.

Oh, how he missed Glenn.

Every single bit as much as the day that knight of Seiros had rushed inside the classroom to tell them about the Tragedy of Duscur. Yuri couldn't remember what they had been talking about in class, no matter how hard he tried. Just that he wasn't sure he had ever felt such pain.

Even today, he remembered the smile Glenn had given him the last time they parted, small, tentative. Promising that when he came home, he'd bring his brother with him.

" _Well, look at me, Glenn,_ " he thought with sadness, " _I finally met your brother, and I've already caused him pain._ "

Just like Yuri had known of 'Lixie' through Glenn, Felix had known of Yuri. And hearing himself being compared to his dead older brother had seemed excruciating for him. That wasn't what Yuri wanted, that never had been what Yuri wanted. Comparing people to the one he had loved was kind of a habit on his part, he did it a lot, like with Claude’s prankster attitude, or Leonie’s lack of care when it came to how she was dressed, or even Lorenz’s way of wrinkling his nose when he was displeased, all traits he couldn’t help but and superpose with his memories of Glenn. But with Felix? It felt awful. Yuri felt like absolute shit about it, no matter how non-intentional it had been.

He knew they weren't the same person. He did, really. And he cared for Felix as his own person. But how could he explain it when he had felt too awkward to speak to him for so long? He had tried, but while it had cleared the air a bit to put words on the feeling, it had still hurt both of them. They had tried sparring again, more tentative, hesitant, almost shy, as if they weren't sure of their boundaries with each other anymore. Still too much unsaid, a relationship that needed to forge itself anew...

Lost in his thoughts as he was, he had not expected the promise.

Yuri blinked, listening to Claude, that cynical man, making such an idealistic promise. In five years, they'd see each other again. In five years, today.

Five years. Sothis, Yuri wasn't even sure he'd still be alive in five years. But there was something about this promise, about the enthusiasm in the kids around him, about the small smiles and the bigger ones, that made him want to promise too.

"Ugh, you know what?" Hilda rolled her eyes. "I couldn't make these perfect accessories I wanted for everyone today, here. And with the dancer outfit confections, I have no idea when I'll be able to start again."

The accessories. Yuri blinked. He had not expected her to actually keep going. There had been no way she would succeed after all, even if the intention was sweet. Such a failure, for a girl who already didn't like effort? That could have been a heavy setback. Yuri was almost sure that the professor had asked her to help with the outfits to spare her feelings and give her the impression that her failure was entirely out of her hands.

"So you guys are going to have to learn patience and wait! In five years. I'll have them ready and more beautiful than anything I could have given you today. So you'd better be ready to be dazzled!"

Oh.

_Oh._

Yuri smiled despite himself. She looked so sure of herself, almost proud of work not yet achieved. It was so unlike her, he couldn't help but laugh. Of course he had known there was so much more under her lazy façade, no one became friends with Claude von Riegan without a bit of depths after all. But he had not expected these depths to be so... _bright_.

"Be careful," he winked at her, "we have expectations, now."

She met his gaze like a challenge.

"Watch me," she swore, "I'll meet them."

It was the first time he realized that Constance, had they gotten to speak more, would have loved her. He’d have to make introductions, one of these days. Professor Eisner was looking at her with a proud glint in her eyes. Yuri definitely knew the feeling.

Then the ball started.

Light, dancing, flirting and courting. The Faerghan prince and the Adrestian princess politely giving a dance to anyone who asked. Yuri was tempted to go for the young man, just to see him fluster. Claude didn't get as many suitors, which suited him just fine as he was too busy breaking unspoken rules. Like dancing with professor Eisner, not caring about the fact that the dance was considered as only belonging to the students. Yuri caught his eye and they exchanged a barely contained grin, full of hilarity. Oh, they'd have a dance later. Probably after his friend had asked for a dance from anyone he definitely wasn't supposed to. He wasn't the only one, though. The Golden Deer had apparently elected to make their evening fun through bets. All of them had started, one after the other, to go to unexpected people, usually ones they never talked to. Maybe it was an ice-breaker. Mostly it was hilarious how mismatched they were. Oh Sothis, had Raphael just asked Edelgard for a dance? The face the princess made as she accepted his hand showed how unsure she was. Their height difference probably wouldn’t match well during the dance. Too bad she was too prideful to refuse. Yuri laughed a bit and then turned away from Ignatz asking a confused Dorothea for a dance, searching for purple hair. He found the wrong people first, which meant Lorenz currently dancing with Petra. But in the end, he found his Bernie sitting alone, hiding behind a few full glasses.

"Hey there," he said, holding his hand out, "care for a dance?"

She screamed, a squeaking, loud sound. The fact that no one even turned their way was proof of how all-encompassing the music in the hall was, muffling every other sound. She looked terrified and... oh no, Bernie, do not go hyperventilating on me like that.

"Hey," he said softly, "you don't have to. Breathe. I've got you."

The young girl nodded, panic still on her face. Okay, so she wasn't hyperventilating, just surprised and terrified. Cool, he could still work with that.

"N-no!" she said in a high-pitched tone of voice. "I... I want to!"

Their last conversation hadn't gone that well, he had to admit, dismayed. She seemed convinced he hated her. But she wanted to dance with him, so obviously, the story he had shared with her had started to make its way into her brain. He smiled, and she took his hand.

They didn't dance for long, the attention, however imagined it could be, was killing her. It wouldn't be long before she panicked again. But he wanted just a few twirls, something to help her have fun before he let her disappear again behind one thing or another.

"You still act like I'm angry at you," he noted with a light tone.

"Eeeek! Sorry!"

"Do not apologize," he laughed, "I should be the one apologizing to you. How could I ever be mad at you? You didn't do anything wrong."

"I always do something wrong," the girl trembled as she stumbled. He caught her. They stopped dancing until she found her footing again. "Like right now," she muttered, embarrassed, "I'm... just not good, you know? It's hard to see something bad happening and not think that..."

Oh, how he hated her father. He had told her, once, that the man loved her enough to defend her from him. Then Byleth had greeted him (and someone else, someone he hadn’t seen. She often did that, it was weird, she was weird. Luckily, he didn’t mind it.) and told him a few stories about Count Varley and the relationship he had with his daughter if such blatant abuse could count as that.

His words had been said in ignorance and he could never apologize enough for them. It wasn't a daughter, Count Varley had been saving that day, it was a marriage prospect. Precious for political reasons, not because of love. Maybe it had been his relationship with his mother, blinding him to how nasty humans could be with their own flesh and blood at times... He wished it was the Count he had been sent to kill. That life, he was pretty sure he would have been able to end in a heartbeat.

"Do not say that," he said with a smile, "you know I enjoy your company."

She was smiling. Good, he could go a bit further.

"I mean," he added, smirking, "I usually do. But pushing food you dislike onto my plate and acting all innocent? That wasn't cute."

She squeaked and buried her head in her shoulders. And then, to his great pleasure, she mock-glared at him and stuck her tongue.

"Well you threatened to throw me into the lake," she whined, "so we're even."

"But it's not my fault," he laughed, "you do make a pretty convincing rock."

"Convincing, right."

She was almost laughing. And he was smiling, oh so wide. She was okay, she was happy, he was making her smile. He owed her all that and so much more. Tonight was a wonderful night.

The music stopped and she stepped back, as if the spell had been broken. People were changing dance partners and suddenly, she was panicked again. Would others be asking her for a dance, now that she was up? Surely, the daughter of a Count was a juicy courting option.

"The Greenhouse should be empty tonight," he told her softly, "say you need some air and hide there, if you want."

"Thanks," she squeaked before rushing out. He looked at her fondly, hoping he was actually right. Well, he had opened the Greenhouse just before coming to the ball, in case something like that happened. No one was supposed to know it was open, so he could hope.

As people changed partners, more than one seemed to be looking at him with interest, but none dared come closer. There was something intimidating about him, he knew, untouchable. Rare were those who dared ask something of him directly. He used to joke that it was because he was too beautiful to be true, but in truth, he was pretty sure it was because one could see in his eyes that he was of the underworld. A poisonous snake, pretty to look at, but terrifying. He was strangely fine with that.

Anyway, with Bernadetta having had fun, only one introvert was left among those he needed to clear the air with.

Professor Byleth passed by him and waved at him.

“Hey, you two,” she said, “I hope you’re enjoying tonight.”

“You might have drunk too much, friend,” he laughed, he was alone after all, “I am enjoying myself just fine, what about you?”

“This is _exhausting_ ,” she grumbled as an answer, “why does everyone want a dance with me? Claude is one thing, but everyone else should know teachers aren’t supposed to dance with the students!”

“The heavy weight of popularity,” he laughed, “now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a young man I need to speak to.”

“About time,” she shook her head, “you’ll find him sitting in a corner, I’d expect. Now, if you’ll excuse me too, I need to get some air.”

Felix was indeed sitting on a chair, in a corner, scowling at the dance floor with the face of someone who had swallowed a lemon. Yuri threw a glance behind him. A red haired man was twirling around a giggling girl. Ah, heartbreak. How common and familiar. He held his hand out. Felix stared at it as if he didn't know what he was supposed to do with it.

"You and Leonie stopped trying to trip the other?" Yuri asked lightly.

"I am not dancing with you."

"When it’s your turn, Claude won't take no for an answer."

"You're not Claude."

Yuri laughed again. Despite how similar everyone called them (and yes, maybe they were, but the differences shone bright too), no, he wasn't Claude. And so he sat by Felix's side. The teenager raised an eyebrow.

"You look like you enjoy dancing," he commented.

"I do," Yuri confirmed, "not with everyone, but I do."

"Why sacrifice your evening here, then? I'm not going to budge."

"Maybe I just want your company."

Felix snorted. Maybe Yuri should have found that funny too, but he didn't. That boy, really. He had wrapped himself up in his anger and pushed everyone away, sabotaging himself before others could leave him for perceived slights. And in doing so, he was so sure he was unlovable, he had done everything so. He couldn't fathom why anyone would want his company. Yuri had seen Lord Seteth ruffle his hair once and the face he had made at the gesture of affection had been so flabbergasted, it was as if he had forgotten to be offended.

Maybe it was hypocritical of Yuri, to try to show him that the world didn't mean to hurt him, always. He understood the impulse after all, hadn't he kept his own friends at bay for a while too? He had pushed Hapi, Constance and Balthus away, desperately trying to keep his distance so he’d be able to betray them, even if it was to save their lives then. He had failed. Ridiculously. The trust they had in him was still something he had a hard time comprehending, and he still had no idea what he had done to deserve it. As far as Yuri had seen, Felix was the same. It was good Claude was too persistent for his own good, really, these two needed each other.

Yuri liked Felix. He did, sincerely. But it'd be no use telling him that before they managed to talk. Really talk. And talking meant mentioning hard subjects. No use wasting time, ripping it open would be faster and less painful for the both of them.

"You know," he said, "I never got to dance with your brother."

"I know," Felix answered after a while.

"How was he?"

"Good."

"Figures."

"Did you expect anything else?"

"Not really, no."

You're good too, Yuri could have told him. But he didn't need to. And Felix wouldn't want to hear it. Comparisons, always comparisons. You could never win against someone who was dead. No matter how much you loved them, it had to weigh on you, eventually.

"Maybe that's why I'm not pushing you to dance despite enjoying it," Yuri hummed, "it'd feel too much like I wanted you to replace him. And I don't."

He wasn't sure what he would have done, had Felix accepted his hand, now that he thought about it. He had known he would get refused long before he had sauntered here.

"I know," Felix answered slowly.

That was already one good thing, then. Yuri chose to take it as encouragement.

"We never got to meet properly," he sighed, "it feels like I should introduce myself again. But I don't think it would change much."

"You didn't realize who I was at first."

So he had figured it out. Well, Yuri probably had been a bit obvious about it.

"How long did it take you to know who I was?" Yuri asked.

Felix shrugged.

"It just dawned on me after a few days."

"Clever boy."

"Don't patronize me."

This time, Yuri laughed. There was sadness in his throat, longing in his chest. It had been all wrong. They should have met earlier, Glenn introducing a snot-nosed teen with eyes full of stars to a Yuri who hadn't yet fallen so hard into the gutter, rising up again and coming out of it singing, but also hardened and bitter. He had become softer in tone and harsher in words, not as natural as he used to be. He still enjoyed a challenge, but not the same way. He didn’t remember the last time he had pranked someone...

"I'm not patronizing you. He talked about you a lot, said you were smarter than you thought you were."

"That's not what he said to me."

"That doesn't surprise me. He was an asshole."

Felix snorted again, more fond than mocking this time.

"He really wanted us to meet, though," Yuri sighed, "in fact... the last words he ever told me were how he hoped he could convince your father to bring you to the monastery just so we'd see each other."

Felix closed his eyes, looking tired for a second. His face was weary when he opened them again, as if all the noise was painful for him.

"His last to me was that once he was back, I could come here to see him."

What a bunch of miserable people they were.

"He never told me your name, that jerk," Yuri huffed, trying to swallow back his sadness, "all this time, I had figured that 'Lixie' was a nickname, but I didn't know it was a nickname for 'Felix'."

"Uuurgh," Felix groaned, "do not ever pronounce that name again."

He had to laugh at that one. Of course, the boy didn't like the nickname. He wasn't surprised. Maybe he did like it once, but with innocence died many other things.

"I am glad I finally met you," Yuri added, softer, "and I would like to call you a friend, if you'd accept."

For a few seconds, his only answer was the music and conversations surrounding them. Then, slowly, Felix turned towards him, eyes unreadable.

"For all my life," he said bluntly, "I've only been a watered down version of my brother. You'll tire of me, eventually."

 _Is that why you surround yourself with people who didn't know him?_ Yuri thought helplessly. _Then do I have a place by your side too?_

"I don't see how," he answered instead, "you have similar mannerisms and other little things that show you two are brothers, but other than that, you're nothing alike."

Felix shrugged and turned away, his eyes unable to stare at Yuri's for long.

"We're brothers," he said, "of course people will compare. I don't resent him for that. And it's not his fault either if Faerghus has such an unhealthy obsession with death everything I do will be compared to how he _died like a true knight_."

Or maybe _that_ was why he had chosen to leave the Blue Lions and gone to Claude. Yuri understood it. Unlearning how he had thought of death since his childhood had been painful, done as he led Abyss and met people with different worldviews. Even now there were days he fantasized about a heroic death on the battlefield, and sometimes he felt that maybe, just maybe, he didn't only fight alone so he'd feel closer to Glenn.

"You're not Glenn," Yuri simply said, "that's neither a good nor a bad thing. It just is. I won't be someone who will watch you do something and say 'Glenn would have done something else'. You don't have to be him."

Felix nodded.

"Good," he said, "that's all I want."

They stayed in comfortable silence until the end of the song. Then Yuri laughed, as he saw Hilda force a bewildered Hubert on the dancefloor, and it had to be a dare, surely, but it was still hilarious to see. Claude was currently pushing Ignatz in Lorenz's arms, himself rushing to get to Dimitri before someone else asked him. Raphael sat down, talking enthusiastically with Leonie. Lysithea was leading her dance with Cyril, and Marianne looked just at home as she listened to a happy Flayn, probably blabbering about how lovely the evening was. They had found each other, Yuri thought with amusement, all of them. Hapi had been wrong, and so had he been. Felix wasn't a stray cat. He just had more than one home.

 _Glenn,_ he thought, smiling, _my dear Ugly Mug. What am I going to do with your brother? I understand why you were so fond of him._

As if he could read his thoughts, Felix rolled his eyes. In the shining lights of the hallway, he was radiant, despite his annoyed face. Cursed be the Fraldariuses and their beauty, Yuri thought, amused, feeling hypocritical but refusing to take it back. They would have the world at their feet, weren't they so busy being assholes. How adorable they were, though, he couldn't stay mad.

"Go dance with someone," Felix said, not as harsh as he could be, "instead of bothering me."

And Yuri laughed, feeling lighter than he had in awhile. He stood up and winked.

"Of course. Thank you for your time and company."

And then, with a final smile, he added:

"Enjoy the party, Most Beautiful."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing about Glenn is that we know a lot and yet nothing about him. We know he was a genius, we know everyone loved him, we know he was a knight at fifteen and died protecting Dimitri in Duscur, a death so graphic they couldn't even bring back his body, and Dimitri mentions a few times how Felix is acting more and more like his brother when he's being snarky (though is that really Glenn or the way Dimitri sees his ghost, we'll never know). But that's it. No date of birth, no actual personality described, nothing. Writing Glenn was the closest thing to writing an OC and I had far too much fun with him. This whole chapter was fun (except maybe the parts in the Empire).  
> BTW, Sylvain and Ingrid mention the story of Sylvain "pursuing Lord Gwendal's daughter and then fearing for his life" a few times in game, but when we meet Lord Gwendal, there's no mention of his family, however Yuri mentions how Gwendal was the only one treating him as an equal. I started joking about how maybe Sylvain had actually flirted with Yuri all along but didn't know it and well, that happened. When my best friend started the game one of the first things I told her was that headcanon, I just love it too much x)  
> I've also always wondered what had led Yuri to become Rhea's spy in Abyss. We can guess that he came to her after realizing that Aelfric was up to something, but not why he decided to go directly to her instead of a knight or something. And well, gonna be honest I _love_ Rhea. She's one of the most nuanced and interesting characters in the game imo, and I wanted to write her, but knew that due to the nature of the story, she could only really appear at the very end. So I was glad Yuri's story gave me a way to have her appear here, even if it was to add even more heartbreak to her life.  
> One thing about Yuri's story I managed to include but felt I did a bit awkwardly was his notebook. That notebook has such a moving yet tragic story, it being about how the Elder who once saved him taught him to write with it, and how he now uses it to write down the names of people he cared for who passed away, as a reminder. It was just... so beautiful yet heartbreaking and I love it. The idea of the first name written in it being Glenn's came after a while but I just couldn't let that opportunity pass.  
> I also drew the two main characters of this chapter kissing x) It's not perfect and while I can't find it again, I know I copied part of it from an old Reborn art I found something like ten years ago ^^' But you can find [it here!](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/739115863155933184/802937143278174228/glennuri.png)  
> I think we're done here? Damn was that note long... Well, the chapter was super long too so it makes sense. In any case thank you so much for reading and see you next chapter!


	23. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix is having a bad week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting another present-tense pov for this chapter. It makes sense, since we're entering a pretty Felix-centric (and Judai-centric but that's usual) part of the story. It's also probably the darkest part of the story (or maybe it just feels this way because, to no one's surprise, Felix is _not_ in a good place right now, like, at all as you'll probably see pretty quickly), so I don't know what that says about me (Lies, I know, it just means I have a favourite punching ball and I'm sorry for him).  
> By the way, has anyone ever thought about how Tailtean and Gronder are canonically the fields where most of Fodlan's food is reaped? And we fight at Gronder during the Fodlan equivalent of late April? I foresee famine in the future, yikes...  
> In any case, last time I played AM, I literally had Dimitri solo the left part of that battle. Felix followed him at first, but then it turned out he was more needeed near the central hill. This did not influence that chapter at all, I swear.  
> BTW funfact, but during my first playthrough, I didn't know about the hill on fire. I had gotten rid of the ballista with Meteor so I didn't even get near the central hill. Then I replayed it and had all the horror of Empire troops (Petra) rushing to Bernadetta's help when I got on the hill, only for Imperial troops to set fire to them both. Yeah, this kinda scarred me.  
> In any case, it's time for the long dread-awaited battle of Gronder. As always, battles aren't my strong point, but this one is so important for me that I sincerely hope I managed it anyway. It is probably quite chaotic. But at the same time, that battle _is_ chaotic, probably the most chaotic one in the whole game (that's what makes it so fun to play).  
> I'm once again not sure when the next chapter will come out, my apologies.  
> This chapter includes another of my drawings, it's not centered and it's me still learning how to use CSP so please be indulgent ^^' But I hope you like it!

**Chapter 22**

_I don’t know the season_

_Or what is the reason_

_I’m standing here holding my blade_

**28th day of the Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1186**

**Felix**

"Wait, you mean that thing destroyed the world?"

"It tried to," Judai explained, his voice frustrated, "it kind of succeeded in fact. It influenced people enough that they created some kind of destructive weapons, Pillars of Light. They destroyed everything. That's why Sothis had to heal the land. I knew we didn't entirely get rid of it, there had been echoes, everywhere, ever since I woke up, so I knew but..."

He gestured vaguely towards the body, more furious than scared out of his mind like he had been just before, despite how pale he looked.

"This? This is the proof that it has power. I thought it had influence, a bit of it, that it was gathering its strength. But if it can possess bodies, then it's already strong. Far too strong."

"What do you mean, 'possess'?"

Felix listened to it all, but it was distant, like through a veil. A destructive god-like force of nature, possessing people with fractured minds. It seemed so outrageously out there that it almost didn't feel like a threat, or maybe it was the years of war talking. In any case, even though he knew he should have been worried, angry, maybe a bit curious, there was only one thing he could feel.

Frustration.

No more anger, no. Anger had unfortunately left him far too long ago, no matter how much he tried to call it to him. Frustration, yes, the thing he leaned on when he screamed at the old man, just to feel like a proper human for once, not the mindless emotionless numb blade he knew he was. He didn't even know who it was he was trying to fool, now. Was it him? Was it his friends?

Frustration.

Because the boy, currently explaining some magical secrets of the Universe to a bewildered Sylvain and Ingrid, had been found by the Boar. Why, in all that was holy, couldn't he have been found by Claude? The Goddess had a weird sense of humour, that was for sure. Here he was, the answer to the Golden Deer's questions, almost wrapped-up as a gift. And instead of going where he could have helped, he had stuck himself here, to fight for Dimitri's pointless crusade. Because the kid had woken up to a revenge-driven man listening to ghosts, and like a baby animal, had apparently imprinted on him and decided he was his new parent of something like that.

Maybe it was uncharitable of him, he thought without heat as they started walking back, Judai still detailing intricacies about the world of a thousand years ago, because while he could have helped Claude so much, his presence had helped here too. A lot. A strange, holy young man with a golden heart and big brown eyes, who fought for them. And wasn't it the proof that the Goddess wanted Faerghus to win the war? That wasn't even talking about what him bringing Dimitri back meant.

Felix wanted, desperately, to find it in himself to be angry at Dimitri's reappearance. The Boar, with his wild eye and mane, acting less human than ever, but standing strong, soldiers chanting his name and ready to fight and die for him. It felt disgusting. It felt hopeful.

Felix couldn't even hate that contradiction, no matter how much he tried. It was like all of his emotions, good and bad, kept being drained from his body the moment they tried to reach him.

He was just... frustrated. Because yes, it had helped, he didn't want to be ungrateful to the kid who had helped them so much, maybe without even noticing. But everytime, he thought about Claude and wanted to hit something, even for just one second. All of Claude's wishes, reunited into one person. That person, appearing not that far from him, but too far for him to reach anyway.

And wasn't that the perfect representation of his friend's entire life...

Letting Judai’s voice drone on behind him, Felix wondered if he'd ever get to see Claude again. Not just him. Hilda's whiny face, Leonie's smirks, Ignatz's paintings, Lorenz's stupid scowls, Lysithea's smug expressions, Marianne's shy eyes, Yuri's annoyingly pretty make-up...

There was no way he was going to live much longer. Dimitri's mad dash would kill him sooner rather than later. He knew it. It didn’t really scare him, it registered more like a fact, something he had accepted despite himself. Dimitri would get him killed. He had known it for a decade. He wasn't even mad about it, more about the waste of lives in general, all around. Why the fuck were these dumbasses in the army following him around, as if they couldn't see what he was doing, and why the fuck was he even worse for doing the same despite seeing it so clearly?

It was a moot question, wasn't it? He just couldn't go. He knew it. Maybe his old man knew it despite everything. Only Sylvain and Ingrid didn't seem to know, that was one of the only things that sometimes managed to pierce through the veil and hit, right in the chest. The lack of trust stung almost more than thinking about what Glenn would have done differently, had he been there…

It was a slippery slope, he decided tiredly, one he didn’t want to keep thinking too much about.

When they arrived back to camp, things were moving. Weapons and supplies were being packed, everyone readying themselves for leaving.

"What's happening?" Sylvain asked, frowning.

Felix didn't wait for an answer that wouldn't come from the wind. He walked purposefully towards his old man's tent, or more exactly, the place where it had been. Rodrigue was preparing for departure too, and so was Manuela. She smiled at him when she saw him and trotted in his direction.

"We're leaving," he noted.

"Yes," Manuela said, "we are. I'm going back North with part of our troops."

"Why?"

She took his hands into his, her eyes soft. She looked sad, but hopeful too.

"I have been feeling ill, lately," she admitted, "and while we don't have that many who are gravely wounded, they are slowing you down, so me and the others who haven’t been in the best of healths, we are taking them with us. Back home."

That made sense. Almost too much. Felix wasn't used to this army making sense. When he blinked, though, he realized what it meant. Manuela was leaving? She wouldn’t be with them anymore?

It was… strange how it felt. Maybe even stranger was the fact that it felt strange, though. For the past five years, she had been a constant. The singing voice giving life to castle Fraldarius’ sad halls, the smile that brightened cold days, the laughter that no one expected to hear. And the voice joking around, and then calling him ‘son’, fondly, no matter how many times he told her not to call him this way. She just smiled everytime, knowingly, and kept going. It had been annoying. Now it just was. And now it wouldn’t be.

Something must have shown on his face, because the songstress kissed him on the cheek, a fond gesture he only pretended to push away.

"Don't worry about me," she assured, "you'll be back home soon too. Take care of yourself, okay, son?"

There was a pang of loss in his chest as he scowled, fake annoyance as comfortable as an old worn set of clothes.

"Take your own advice," he growled.

"Will do," she promised, gently tapping his shoulder.

He'd miss hearing her sing, he admitted to himself. Everything else he locked away, not ready yet for that kind of honesty. Not here.

She went back to his father and he swallowed down the wish to ask what _they_ were doing, then, since obviously they weren't all following Manuela and the wounded. He averted his eyes when his old professor kissed Rodrigue tenderly, that wasn't something he wished to see. Instead, he searched for red hair, as he sadly often did in these moments. It was sobering to think about, some days, how despite the distrust, despite the hurt and all that had changed, _this_ had refused to go away. Sobering, but not surprising. There had been years of seeing nothing but the worst of him, and yet it had stayed. Five years of hurt, where every familiar and kind presence was a comfort, wouldn’t change it either.

Instead of auburn-red, he found carrot orange and blue eyes. Annette, speaking with Mercedes. Looking in each other's eyes, smiles sweet. He stepped down on his own longing. He was a tool of war, he scolded himself, what was he doing, seeking comfort from one who would never give him what he wished for?

"Felix."

His father was apparently done smooshing his fiancee. Not that Felix was supposed to know about the promise rings they had exchanged. He knew better than anyone, in truth, what they hoped for, with those. Once that war was won, they wanted to get that wedding officiated by the true King of Faerghus.

What did that say about Felix that he held no such hope? He thought the older you got, the more cynical you were. And yet, here they were. Old, hopeful idealists.

He didn't have it in him to break their dreams. Let them find solace where they could.

"I know where Manuela is going," he said to Rodrigue, "but where are _we_ going?"

His old man bit his lip, face conflicted. Nothing unusual there, so Felix just raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"Maybe you should go with Manuela."

Felix froze. What...

"What's happening?"

Rodrigue looked hesitant, ill at ease. He held no conviction as he said these words, likely knowing there was no way Felix would follow the advice. He looked... _old_ , Felix thought, startled, older than he had looked for the whole duration of the war. It didn't last long, the man forcing his features back into a resolved expression.

"Our scouts have come back. They've seen an Empire army force going towards Gronder Field."

Gronder. They'd be there in a matter of two or so days, maybe less if they hurried as they seemed to be doing.

"We'll need to get around them," Felix said immediately, "we don't have the necessary forces to confront prepared armed forces. Especially if we need to have soldiers left to fight at Merceus and then Enbarr."

"I hear you, but...

"Let me guess, the Boar wouldn't listen."

"Felix..."

"Try to convince him before using that tone of voice, old man. We can reach the damn Emperor faster if we don't waste time and troops on Gronder. They're going to fight the Alliance, right? So we can skirt around them and rush to Enbarr."

"Felix," why did his father sound so tired, "that's the very problem here."

"What do you mean?"

"The Emperor is leading that force."

When you twisted the words enough, anything could sound reasonable. He didn't know if his father really thought what he told the troops, that this was the opportunity to end this war once and for all, with the death of the Emperor, or if it was just words, carefully woven together to make everyone listen. There was no mention of the Alliance, despite another messenger being sent, as if they had no hope of an answer. Felix hadn't had the time to read it, he didn't know if it was something that said ‘we have the same objective, let's work together on that battlefield’ or ‘we are going to rush ahead, stay away if you don't want to get hurt’, he didn't bet on either.

Whether the old man believed in what he said or not, the soldiers ate it up, howling enthusiastically, craving blood and that hypothetical end to the war.

First, they sent a small strike force, ahead, mostly there to scout the terrain. Then the second, main armed force, composed of the better part of their troops, would walk in their wake. And then the last one, mostly the helpers and medics, here to provide assistance once the battle was over. Small groups meant moving faster, making sure they'd be there on time.

In theory, that was smart. It was actually more organized than any of their actions had been until then. And they moved fast. Very fast. To a numbingly quick pace that was almost enough for Felix to forget, at times, to seek, desperately, the messenger that would (may, might, slim chances, but he refused to give up hope on that, anything else was unacceptable) bring an answer from Leicester.

And then, on the second day of walking, as if to cruelly tell him to stop holding his breath, a scout arrived, looking grim. He was walking by his father’s side, along with Judai, at the time, and that was how he heard what she had to say.

“We’ve found Alain, our messenger to Leicester, sir.”

“Found?” His father’s voice was remote, his face stern but Felix could swear he saw horror when he realized what it meant.

“He was… That poor guy, they found his body… It was inhuman.”

There was no need for the woman to describe it, her face looked green just thinking about it. Rodrigue sent Felix a small glance before dismissing the scout, thanking her for her service. Judai didn’t wait one second before turning towards them.

“Our scout to the Alliance was killed?” He asked more to accept the horror of the situation than as a real question.

He looked pale, Felix was pretty sure he was picturing the dead young man’s face in his head as the reality of it hit him.

“It wasn’t them,” Felix said instead, “there’s no way it was them.”

“I know,” his father said, “I know. I’ll need to reconvene with the lords, but I already know what they’ll say.”

Twice their messenger to the Alliance was killed, the first time in Alliance lands. That would be too much for the paranoid old fools.

“Try to convince them anyway,” he asked sharply, or at least tried.

The way the two looked at him showed that he hadn’t succeeded. And he had felt it in his throat too, how his voice had broken at the end.

“Even if I convince them,” his father said softly, “there is no way for us to contact Leicester in time, now. Our only hope is to reach the fields long before them so they get time to observe the situation before jumping into the bloodbath.”

Because one only had to listen and watch around them to see it.

The soldiers wouldn’t stop even if they asked, now. They wanted this over with, they wanted to run to their death, if it meant ending the war. They wanted to go, they wanted, desperately. His father and Judai’s influences wouldn’t be enough to stop them, especially if the other lords didn’t follow through. Ailell, Felix wasn’t even sure the Boar could get them to stop right now.

Judai was looking at him, conflicted, when Rodrigue went towards the other army commanders, especially a somber-looking Gilbert. Felix didn’t have the strength to look back at him, not knowing how he would react in front of these kind brown eyes. Or even what he’d see there. Pity? Understanding?

Felix just… didn’t look at him. He swallowed, grit his teeth, and kept walking, unsure what else he could do. He walked, feeling almost as if he were floating, not exactly in control of his own body, until he had, almost instinctively, found what he had once, a long time ago, dreamed would be his place in battle.

At his side, Dimitri was staring ahead, not saying a word. He stayed silent, mostly, leaving Felix with his own demons. Sometimes, his lips moved quietly, mumbling inaudible words and Felix was…

 **Fight**.

Scared.

Sothis, he was so scared? Guess he could still feel emotions, then, huh? So today was the day he realized weapons like him were still able to be hit by desperation.

And so they walked. The desperate rush in their legs, not enough to exhaust them, but enough to have nerves run wild. Felix didn't sleep at night, he barely had the previous one. From what he could see, Judai and Dimitri didn’t fare any better.

On the third day of their walk, Judai had changed clothes, wearing his dancer outfit from the get go. He walked solemnly, his face blank. When the sun mocked them with its brilliance, [it felt like his eyes were shining gold](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/739115863155933184/805509396670709780/Judai_dancer.jpg), yet burnt colder than they ever did. They were the thirtieth day of the Great Tree Moon, the first month of the Imperial year 1186. Part of Felix felt he wasn’t going to live to see the next Harpstring moon. Another part was surprised he had already lived to see that year.

It was on that very day that Caspar inserted himself to his side, looking nervous. Felix first nodded at him and then did a double take.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, gesturing at Dimitri.

"I'm wearing your colours, I'm fine," Caspar answered, waving without worry, still looking scared, but then why if not because of the Boar.

"Still, aren't you supposed to be garding the rear?"

That had been a decision made more out of pragmatism than anything else. Having their rogue Imperial troops at the rear avoided conflicts of loyalty, a strategy Felix believed Claude might have employed as well. It made sure they only would have to fight their fellow countrymen as a last resort.

Even from the very beginning, Caspar’s men had mostly stayed away from their main camp, so they’d watch their backs and made sure no one attacked from that side. It had been even more necessary in Hrym, with its citizens being at best wary of Imperial troops. Felix wasn’t sure Caspar had even met one of them.

“Yes, I know, but there’s something weird…”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, we’re kind of between the two last forces, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I think I’ve seen someone… Or more like I think I’ve seen someone I know,” the young man admitted and he really didn't look happy about it, "I’m just not sure. And even if I have, I don’t know if she’s here, or back with the healers… So basically, have you seen a young girl? Dirty blonde hair? Pigtails? Pretty small too, even more than Annette."

"It doesn't sound familiar."

But someone Caspar knew meant...

He inhaled.

"An Imperial spy?"

"I hope not. Damn, I hope I'm wrong," the young man grumbled, "I mean, my aunt doesn't have any reason to be there, but... well..."

It was war. They were all paranoid. The rush was only making things worse as they all ran towards certain death and most of them didn't care. Felix nodded tiredly.

"I'll keep an eye open," he promised. There wasn’t much else he could do to distract himself from what was coming.

"I know," Caspar said sincerely, "thank you. Just..." He nodded towards Dimitri. "I know you're mad at him or something, but still. We need him. If someone's here for him, well..."

He didn't have to finish. Felix simply nodded again, not sure what else he could say. He knew, Goddess did he know. Why else would they have followed him until here if not for that very reason?

As they started to hear the sounds of battle, Ingrid and Sylvain came closer. Ingrid had her lips pressed against each other, so harshly they looked white. She didn't say a word. Sylvain was quiet too, his hand finding Felix's shoulder, briefly, in a small gesture of comfort. Felix didn't even entertain the thought of pushing him away. If this was to be the last time he'd touch Sylvain, let it be it.

"Felix," Rodrigue told him as the smell of blood and iron came to their nostrils, overwhelming and revulsing, a nauseating atmosphere of rage and slaughter, "stay with His Highness."

"Really old man?" Frustration was there, quickly replaced by the desperation that had started haunting him these last few days. "We’re here, and that's what you want to tell me?"

"Felix..."

And then, the battlefield appeared to them.

It was, politely said, a disaster, a mess, a rain of death without rhyme or reason. When the first armies had first reached the battle, they had rushed in, likely expecting to be alone with their enemy. And when the third had come, it hadn't slowed down, doing the same.

In the absence of leaders to make sense of the situation, everyone had started slaughtering everyone.

They hadn't been fast enough, or maybe they had been too fast. In the end, who cared which sides had started the fight. The killing had started. That was all that mattered. A rain of fire welcomed them, someone screaming to take cover. He could hear soldiers screaming by his side, not as lucky as he had been when avoiding being hit by the magic.

When he stood up again, as if appraising each other, all three armies stepped back for a few seconds. Felix just looked at the battlefield, the dead already sprawled on the ground and around him, the victims of fire spells raining from the sky. He barely heard it when Dimitri walked forward, taking lead of the Kingdom’s cries of revenge as if it were second nature. He felt sick, weak in his stomach when his own gaze went up north, to where he could see another army, dressed in gold, carrying a flag representing the crest of Flames.

The crest of Flames instead of Leicester’s colours. Claude had united them behind the professor instead of himself. Felix didn’t have time to feel the usual fond annoyance he bore in these kinds of occasions before a hand fell on his shoulders. He was trembling, he realized, the hand barely holding him still. He had never been terrified before a battle, never like that. His eyes found his father, the one with his hand on his shoulder. Behind them, looking at the field with frozen molten gold in his eyes, there was Judai, looking calm and emotionless, as if he were locking his heart away. Good, Felix thought distantly, maybe he’d survive, then.

He was still shivering. Surely, his father felt it…

"Felix," Rodrigue said in his ear, "stay with His Highness. He will go after the Emperor."

"Old man, just stop..."

"Please do not be difficult, I am serious," his father insisted calmly, "I’ll try to warn our troops not to engage unprovoked, however late it may be. But His Highness will go straight to the Emperor. He will be in danger, yes, but also probably far from the Alliance's lines."

Felix whipped his head around, eyes staring at his father in shock, trying to understand what it meant. Rodrigue's face was closed. Sad. He knew the Alliance wasn't the enemy, sure, but by keeping Felix away from them... was he trying to avoid conflicts of loyalty with the same pragmatism given to their rogue Imperial troops, or to spare him, personally, from fighting them?

Did that… change anything or was it the same in the end?

He didn't know and didn't have time to know. Dimitri asked for blood. And the soldiers followed. Happily. Howling for death. The prince, his prince despite everything, rushed forwards and Felix felt his heart miss a beat. There was no time to say anything to his father. As he saw his old friend's back disappearing among enemies, he didn't spare more time thinking.

He ran to him, blade at the ready, fully prepared to throw his life away for ideals he didn't even believe in. He remembered, what felt like a lifetime ago, Claude asking him what it was that he lacked, between brains and self-preservation. A joke, made by a leader who had earned his trust and loyalty, instead of having it be expected of him. And yet, he still found himself here, probably about to die for another who earned neither.

Both, he thought desperately, I lack both. I'm the biggest fool of them all.

And yet he fought.

As always, Dimitri was a whirlwind, a storm destroying all on his way. Felix remembered a time his friend had hated that strength, how it broke everything he cared about. In the end, it was finding all these things broken anyway that had made him accept it, he figured.

Felix had never had such qualms about his own strength. It wasn't insanely strong from the start like Dimitri he figured, it had been something to cultivate and work on, his crest only granted him an extra edge if he worked hard. He had gotten stronger and it had gotten stronger with him. But no matter how strong he was, he realized quickly enough that he couldn't follow. His chest felt about to explode as he ran and ran, fighting, killing, stabbing and slashing with the occasional explosion of Lightning Magic (Lightning Magic, Dorothea and Lysithea had taught him Lightning Magic, were they on this battlefield?). But despite all of his best effort, he could barely manage Dimitri's pace. There was no time to regain his footing after a move, the prince's long legs were already moving two steps ahead. Nothing was slowing him down, throwing enemies aside as if they were mere ants. It was nothing like the fights against Alliance lords or the small force in Hrym, no. Right now, Dimitri was _motivated_ , fixated on West and a red-clad figure that was still away, so far away despite the pace.

He figured, for their soldiers, such a view was inspiring, hope-inducing. But he couldn't see the same thing. Half of his mind was comparing that violent giant with a child of soft disposition, who cried when he accidentally broke one of Glenn's fingers. The other half was screaming in fear and devastation as Dimitri walked further and further away, to his death, to both of their deaths. There were like flashes in his brain, reminding him of a young boy who tearfully apologized after saying something mean, and then a broken teenager laughing and laughing, blood spattered on his face as Felix froze, torn between sheer terror and the urge to reach out, to shake his friend out of this manic frenzy, and realizing that, were he to step forward, he too, probably, would end up dead on the ground.

And so Felix ran, all of his life, according to how Dimitri moved. First it had been after him, and then away from him, only to now turn around, try to match him step by step and realize desperately that ten years later, one thing hadn’t changed: he couldn’t reach him. Wait! His chest screamed in pain. Just wait a little bit for me, damn it! Dimitri, I swear to Sothis, _why do you always have to rush into places I can't follow!_

He knew he wasn't being careful enough, too busy trying to go as fast as the man could, protecting him as best as possible, forgetting about himself. It was only muscle memory making sure he was still able to push back against those that came after him instead of the prince. So of course, it had to happen.

An opponent fell to his blade, another one, both in his way. Like a last reflex, one pushed him roughly. Unbalanced as he was, avoiding the other's fall, Felix tripped and fell roughly. His back hit the ground, emptying his lungs immediately. He coughed heavily, standing up as quickly as his legs allowed him to and slashing at one last opponent before she could stab him. He didn’t even see her fall, wheezing as he turned around, panic overwhelming him when he didn't see blonde hair anywhere near him.

He didn't see him.

He heard, however, Dimitri’s howl of rage, already far from here.

There he was, hacking his enemies to pieces without slowing down. Even Felix going down hadn't changed the way he moved at all.

Of course it hadn't.

What had he expected?

His eyelids were heavy. There were enemies all around, yet his oldest friend (he was dead, he knew he was dead, had been dead for nine years, why did he expect anything different) hadn't even looked twice when he had fallen, no worry, no fear, not even anger. Not the anger that he let these ghosts of his set fire to his blood.

Felix had spent years being less important than a dead person. He should be used to it. His eyes stung. In the middle of the battlefield. The worst place to be twelve years old again and break.

So he inhaled sharply and clutched his sword, thanking whatever Goddess there was that no enemy had seen his moment of weakness and started walking, ready to chase after the Boar once again.

"Felix!"

The call of his name, coming from the North, was like a slap to the face. Mostly, because he knew.

He knew that voice.

When his head whipped around, torn between horror and anticipation, he managed to see her, going down the field, towards him. An orange fury, who usually would have jumped at him with a quip, maybe even punched him. And she was limping towards him, eyes terrified.

"Leonie?" he said. He barely wondered about how terrible a salutation this was, after five years. She had grown her hair, and she was wearing mercenary garb, he noticed quickly. But there wasn't time for more. Nothing in her posture betrayed any aggressivity, she wasn’t here to fight him, but she wasn’t here to talk either. Features scared, she pointed at the sky.

Felix followed her finger and saw it.

A white wyvern, dodging arrow after arrow. As if all of the Empire's archers had taken it as their target. Most of the other aerial units had stayed away from the central hill and the ballista that was sure to have been set up there, but it looked like they had managed to push this one right inside the more dangerous parts of the field. And they were all so focused on it, as if taking it down was the first priority.

A white wyvern.

There was no question who it was.

Leonie was limping.

"Go back to your lines," he growled.

And without another word, he turned his back on Dimitri's slaughter and ran towards the wyvern. With very much the same kind of desperation as before, he rushed and he cut through the disorganized enemy lines, who were torn between protecting the hill holding the ballista and running to help the troops that Dimitri was single-handedly destroying. They were easy pickings.

Felix didn't have time to get rid of them all. He just needed to go through. He needed to be there when Claude would need to land.

Part of him knew that, logically, he shouldn't be needed. Hilda, if possible, would be there. Maybe Lorenz too. Yuri, probably.

But Leonie had looked terrified.

Something hadn't gone according to plan. He didn't know the plan, but the deers usually did. Something had gone wrong. She has asked for his help.

Something was going wrong. Fear tearing his chest apart, he just knew that something was going wrong and that he needed to be there, he needed to be there, he needed to...

His blade bounced on an armored shoulder and suddenly, there was fire.

The world erupted into flames, heat and red and orange, and everything seemed to stop for a second. The soldiers Felix was fighting turned towards the ballista in shock. Felix felt himself freeze in horror.

It wasn’t just a rain of fire magic, like the one that had welcomed them to Gronder.

No.

The hill was on fire.

And at the very same time, there was a scream.

His heart missed a beat as he recognized that voice, these screams. His eyes searched for a second and then found her, amid the flames, purple hair hiding behind a wooden ballista that was starting to catch fire too.

Bernadetta Varley.

Almost by instinct he started to go towards the hill, ready to rush there.

Bernadetta was an enemy, he remembered with a pause, she was an enemy, an Imperial general.

The Empire.

That had just set fire to the hill.

The Empire had set fire to its own people. He could see a few Kingdom and Alliance troops, howling in pain in the flames. And he could see the Empire mages, retreating, attracting the attention of fellow soldiers who started screaming at them. Simple Empire people, calling for the mages’ head, their voice coloured by horror. The ballista was an advantage the Emperor apparently refused to lose to her opponents, even if sacrificing her own men was the price.

He felt sick. The Empire soldiers alongside him were looking over in horror, too shaken to keep fighting him, some had rushed after the mages to ask for an explanation. Some were just staring at the hill in shock, frozen in place.

Felix ran towards the fire.

At that very moment, a black and lavender blur rushed past him and Felix stumbled to a stop, surprise overtaking him. Long, lavender hair. A black coat with purplish and silver ornaments. Disappearing into the flames.

Felix stopped, wondering, for one second, what he had just seen, if he had dreamed or if… No. No, that made sense, he realized with terror, of course he would be there, even far from his lines. He always fought alone after all, and Bernadetta was… His heart screamed. He knew that person. He knew him. He knew...

"Yuri!" he roared at the flames, trying to figure out where he was, voice tinted with histeria.

Bernadetta screamed again and Felix rushed towards the sound. He found them just as they came out, tumbling down the hill. Yuri was holding her, protecting her with his body. Purple and black. Rolling down without grace. Felix stepped inside the fire and barely managed to get a hold on Yuri's shoulders, dragging him away from the hill as Bernadetta squealed, crawling away from it painfully. There were tears on her face, and soot. She looked older, taller, her clothes were torn and her hair was burnt, but except for a nasty looking burn on her shoulder, she seemed unscathed.

She screamed again in horror, but not at Felix or her own wounds.

She was fine. But Yuri was...

The burns had devoured all of his right side, leaving it mangled, skinned at places. A purplish red that extended even upon his face. His eyes were wide open, wild, full of pain. He didn't even seem to see them as he gasped for breath, writhing on the ground.

"Yuri!" Bernadetta was screaming. "Yuri, talk to me!"

He had jumped him to save her. The fool. Felix hadn't remembered Yuri to be such a fool, he thought numbly, to rush in without a plan. But he had saved her, hadn't he. And wasn't Felix about to do the same?

" _You're supposed to be better than me. You're not supposed to risk your life like an idiot..._ " he thought feverishly.

Bernadetta was screaming again, crying. She was an enemy. An enemy who had just been betrayed by her own side. And once again, hadn't he been about to save her too?

Around them, he could see other soldiers, rushing to help others out of the flames, too horrified to think about sides for just a moment. He thought he saw Petra’s long hair, still among flames, but he hoped he was wrong. He looked around. Not too far from there, rushing towards them, he saw a horse and a flash of blue. Was that Faith magic?

Marianne.

He firmly shook Bernadetta's shoulder and she started, looking at him tearfully, more scared for her dear old friend than for herself. He pointed to Marianne.

"Carry him", he ordered, "get him to Marianne."

Maybe the Alliance would kill her. Maybe they'd think twice, seeing how she was bringing back a friend that had just been wounded. It was still more chances of survival than going back to the side that had just set her on fire.

She nodded briskly, tears still rushing down but forgotten as he helped Yuri on her back. There were no thanks, just her going as fast as she could towards the holy knight making her way towards them.

"Marianne!" she was yelling. "Marianne! Yuri needs help!"

Felix didn't wait to make sure they reached the young woman. He started running again. The fire might have distracted the enemy troops, but not all of them. The archers were still aiming at the sky.

And further away, too far, much too far from where he was, Claude's beast had landed, forced down by one too many arrows.

So Felix ran. Somehow, whoever should have been on his way couldn't even slow him down. He thought he saw blonde hair and heard a roar as a swordsman, getting close to him, was pummelled by heavy fists. He heard an arrow hitting a mage about to attack him and wondered if it was Ignatz, or just luck. He saw pale hair, and maybe it was a proud mage he used to know, but maybe it wasn’t. He let their identities slip from his mind to focus as he hurried, because they were still in mostly Imperial lines, right now, because that place was dangerous, because he needed to watch his back, because if something happened to _him_ when he could have helped...

And so he ran, towards the wyvern that was snapping and biting and turning around, attacking whoever she could reach as her master was shooting point blank, waiting for an opening to draw his axe.

Felix jumped into the fight, cutting down an enemy with a broad slice. Sparks ran through his fingers as he hit the next one's armor with all of his magical strength.

He gave Claude his opening.

His timing was perfect. A few seconds later, they were overrun. Too many enemies for two people and a wyvern, Claude would never have stood a chance alone.

Felix fought and hacked and slashed with the desperation of one who knew he was about to die. Outnumbered, stuck, surrounded. They had no chance. Yet, there was no way he was going down without a fight, without maybe, just maybe giving a chance to Claude.

He hadn't seen Claude in so many years and in the heat of battle, he could barely distinguish him. His axe was surer in his hand, he was stronger with it. That was all that mattered as they fought, back to back, while the gigantic white winged monster bit and growled.

His arms were hurting, but his back was burning and he could see glowing lights, all around him and Claude as he pushed back with more strength than he should still have, slashing through defences that no one else could with a simple sword. A blade pierced his side and he stumbled for a second but didn't slow down, stabbing the soldier who had just hit him under the helmet, right in the throat.

It was the first of many hits. After a while he didn't even feel them. The blade of Claude's axe decapitated the mage who burned his dominant shoulder. The wyvern bit down on the one who sliced at his face, barely grazing his forehead. It'd leave a scar if by sheer miracle he survived that. And then there was Claude’s axe again, he had thrown it this time, right in the face of the one who had just hit Felix’s arm. His leader drew a sword immediately and didn’t slow one bit and, briefly, under the despair and adrenaline, Felix thought one second about how _he_ had taught him that, how it was him who had taught him the sword.

That thought didn’t last. Another slash, and he killed, again and again. And maybe there were a few gazes of recognition, when he looked at the corpses of his enemies, some of them people he had sometimes saluted in the academy's halls. But that didn't slow them down, and that didn't stop his hand. That warrior, she had sparred with him once. That soldier, he had helped him clean the training grounds a few times. That man, he had done nothing more than say hello to him when their eyes met, but he remembered, because he had red hair, and red hair was always clamoring for his attention.

He killed them all, blade against blade, blade against armor, blade against skin. Magic at his fingertips, gloves getting torn apart as he was thrown around again and again, getting up every time, never letting them finish him off before he could deal the fatal blow himself. He saw their eyes close, or become empty, staring blankly at him, then at the sky, maybe at the ground, and less than one second later, he was roaring, blade locked against his next opponent.

His sword (a silver one, precious, a gift from his father he had refused to part with) broke on the armor of the soldier about to attack Claude with his spear and despite the loss, the anguish he felt at it, as if he'd lost a precious friend, he called the sparks to him and lightning burned through his fingers as he hit with his bare hands. His gloves had been torn apart, already, he didn’t remember when, but his fingers felt dead.

His fists were red, skin torn, his head was screaming, there was blood all over him. His body was numb, cold. His vision was hazy as he looked around, searching for the next enemy, finding her close, axe at the ready. Axe falling on the ground, body soon to follow, a small tomahawk stuck in her head.

He looked at her body, not understanding. Behind him, he thought he heard Claude's voice. But what was he saying?

His head hurt. His shoulder, and his side felt cold, freezing.

A wyvern, brown this time, landed brutally on the ground and he saw someone jump from it. He braced himself, expecting an enemy. Pink. With an ivory weapon, an axe. He blinked, feeling himself lower his guard.

"Hilda?" he managed to mumble. Or he thought he did, he couldn’t hear his own voice.

She was screaming. But what? She ran away from them and he blinked again. Two arms, covered in red, caught his shoulders and he tried to fight back. He snarled, sparks running through his body, weaker this time but still there, ready to fight.

"Felix!"

This voice.

He knew this voice. The arms holding him were strong, but they weren't harming him, he realized. The sleeves, under all the blood, were golden.

"Claude?" he tried to say.

The man was helping him walk. Was helping him up. His legs had no strength anymore, why? Green eyes were looking at him, wide, worried. They were going to the wyvern?

She was growling, licking her wounds and whining in pain, but she didn't seem too badly harmed.

"Felix," Claude said in his ear, "hold on."

Hold on. It sounded like a simple enough order, but he couldn’t figure it out. Hold on for what?

His eyes fell on his friend. The whole world was a blur, but Claude looked older. Of course he looked older, it had been years... He had grown a small beard, and his shoulders were wider. He looked tired, afraid. Right, enemies, there were enemies to...

Where were the enemies?

"Soldiers," he mumbled, "we need to..."

"Hilda is taking care of it," Claude told him briskly, "now do whatever you can to help me."

The wyvern growled, but with barely a pat, she lowered herself near the ground. And Claude, with a strength that he definitely didn't have five years ago, put his arms under Felix's traitorous legs and carried him onto the saddle.

Felix blinked again, confused. He was a poor rider and hated heights, surely Claude knew that, what did he expect him to do on his wyvern's saddle?

Was the wyvern so bloody before?

Claude went next, sitting himself behind him, muttering comforting words to his beast. As he took the reins, he accidentally brushed against Felix's side.

Agony shot through him and he doubled down, unable to breathe as shooting pain tore him apart from inside. He wanted to scream but his voice wouldn't come out, gasping as he clutched the saddle, nails biting into leather despite how much it hurt his bloodied hands.

Everything was burning. It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt...

Claude was apologizing and whispering words of encouragement. As if his beast could understand him. Despite the mind-numbing pain, he thought maybe she could, maybe she could...

The world was becoming smaller. Were they flying? He couldn’t feel it. There was so much blood on the ground, dripping from the wyvern.

Wait. No.

Not the wyvern. His hands, they were covered in...

He blinked and let his head loll, helplessly, on the side, allowing him to stare at his freezing and bleeding abdomen.

Oh.

How much had he lost? He thought absently as the pain turned into ice in his veins. His grip failed him and he let himself sag into Claude's arms, too tired to try to stay upright by himself.

"Come on", his friend was saying, "you can do it. We're almost at camp. We have healers."

Healers. All along, he wasn’t speaking for the wyvern, was he?.

"Don't you dare die on me, Felix."

Felix closed his eyes. Seeing the ground getting smaller was making him feel ill. The beast carrying them whined.

He barely remembered the rest of the flight. When they landed, he could hear Claude screaming for a healer, other people coming closer, asking him if he was unharmed, Claude hand waving their worries. Claude had never been as strong a fighter as Felix, it seemed so weird to have him unharmed when Felix was in such a sorry state.

It was his crest, obviously.

He could see them again, their crests. Glowing, the whole fight, Fraldarius giving him the strength to push back again and again, the crescent moon of Riegan allowing Claude to heal from any wound he sustained.

Of course Claude wasn't wounded.

Arms around him, again. Another voice, coming closer.

"Give him to me," it said.

So Hapi and Caspar had been right, he thought as he managed to distinguish green hair, Linhardt had indeed joined the Alliance…

Then, there was nothing but darkness.

On the other side of Gronder field, the Adrestian Emperor retreated, wounded. Barely a few minutes later, despite the end of hostilities, a dagger found the wrong target.

And so, Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius took his last breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.


	24. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judai looks at the results of Gronder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're halfway through, huh. At first I thought I couldn't say that since the prologue doesn't really count as a chapter, but then I remembered we had chapter 21, which is basically three chapters-sized xD So I think it counterbalances nicely. And so we're halfway through this fic. That's so weird to think about. (Though I guess there will still be the bonus chapters, even though I can't post any right now because all those I've already finished spoil things about the story that are still to come)  
> In any case let me talk music, because I'm in the mood to talk even more during my intro note than I usually am, I blame my uniquely short end note from last chapter. So, music! I listen to music a lot when I write my chapters, and sometimes I only find the perfect song for a chapter after I finished it. That was what happened last chapter. I listened to "Children of the Sun" from Thomas Bergersen something like three days after I had finished writing it and couldn't help but think that that was it, that was the kind of atmosphere I could hear in my version of Gronder ("Between Heaven and Earth" is one of my favourite songs in the game along with "Shambahla" and "God-Shattering Star", so I mostly listened to it when I wrote the chapter but I knew I wanted a different feel anyway). So I did all of my editing and proofreading listening to Children of the Sun and as a result I feel the battle became much more desperate, which was what I wanted it to feel like. I was honestly overjoyed when I saw it seemed to work, the comments brought me to tears <3  
> I, however, never found the perfect song for this chapter xD I found the perfect one for the next one months before I actually wrote it, and a song perfect for part of chapter 25 just as I was writing it too, but chapter 23 stays a blank for me. I think it's because the mood I tried to have the whole way was just... tired. Tired and angry, yes, but mostly tired. There's no more music, no more epicness or desperation. Just numb fatigue.  
> In any case, **warning for suicidal thoughts** , though there's nothing on AM or GX S3's level.

**Chapter 23**

_A song of me a song in need_

_Of a courageous symphony_

_A verse of me a verse in need_

_Of a pure-heart singing me to peace_

**1st day of the Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1186**

**Judai**

Judai looked at the battlefield, his heart heavy. He knew pyrrhic victories, he knew all about them. The toll was far too big, whatever the prize. Oh, they had won Gronder, but at what cost.

Their army was diminished by half, they had antagonized those who could be their biggest allies, Lord Rodrigue had died saving Dimitri from an assassin, and Felix...

Judai exhaled.

No one could find Felix. They had been looking. Since the battle finished. But there were so many bodies, everywhere, without even counting those that burnt in the fire, unrecognizable for many. Ingrid, a reliable companion at his side, had said that there was no reason Felix would have been in the fire. He was supposed to stay near Dimitri, and the human hurricane had been far from the hill when it had started burning.

But really, Judai had asked, if Felix had somehow found himself near the fire, was there any chance he would have run inside it? Sylvain had said no, he had too much sense for that. Judai had asked if that sense stayed if one of his friends was in danger. Sylvain had opened his mouth, as if to say that none of his close friends had been there at the time.

And then he had closed it, realizing that he couldn’t know. He couldn’t, because none of them knew where Leicester soldiers were when tragedy had struck. Ingrid had looked angry, but mostly at herself. She had refused to believe it could be. So she had volunteered, on the very next day, to look at the battlefield for survivors, and for bodies. Judai had come with her.

But first, he had seen Dimitri.

Dimitri was shaken. Had been since Rodrigue's death. He had stayed outside even as rain poured after the battle, washing everything away in blood red rivulets. Pain, blood, anger, rage and bloodthirst, all seeping away from them, down into the earth as the skies weeped.

 _"Dimitri,"_ Judai had said, _"talk to me."_

" _What is there to say?"_ he had answered bitterly.

_"Felix."_

_"He already hated me before."_

There was no time to discuss that.

_"He's missing, Dimitri. Has been since around the middle of the battle. He was supposed to be with you, did you see him?"_

Dimitri's eye was wild when he turned to him. The panic was obvious, the fear, the agony. He had taken a step back, afraid.

 _"I saw him,”_ he answered, horror in his voice, _"I think I saw him for a while… But then he wasn’t there anymore, I’m not sure when."_

_"Where did you see him last? When?"_

Dimitri had blinked, his face fallen as he tried to recall.

 _"Before the fire,"_ he mumbled, _"in the fields, not too far away from the central hill."_

Judai had nodded, face closed. Then only, he had joined Ingrid.

 _"He was near the fire"_ , he had said, _"wherever he went, we must go from there."_

But hours later, there was still nothing. They had found testimonies. Not many. Most were too distracted by the fire. But those who saw him all agreed that he wasn't trapped in it when it started. So there was at least that.

"Could he have been taken?" Judai ended up asking.

"The Empire hasn't taken prisoners since the beginning of the war," Ingrid answered briskly, "why would they start now?"

Judai had around a thousand answers, none good enough. Because no one had been a noble yet? Because Felix had a Major Crest? Because he had apparently dragged soldiers out of the fire without checking what side they were on, maybe they thought it deserved mercy… No, in reality, none of these made as much sense as they did on paper, unfortunately.

Instead he said:

"What about the Alliance? He has friends there, doesn't he?"

Ingrid tensed up.

"I guess," she mumbled.

It wasn't exactly a good prospect, especially with how, sadly, some of the Kingdom had ended up facing the Alliance during the fight. But it seemed like their best option at the moment. The most hopeful. No matter how much Ingrid seemed to dislike Felix' friendship with the Alliance, she still liked it better than him being dead.

"Should we ask the Alliance for a meeting?" Judai asked. "After such a disastrous battle, this might not be the best moment, but we don’t really have any other choice, now, no matter what the lords will say."

Ingrid's face darkened.

"Probably. Our forces are..."

A disaster. After such losses, morale was low, and the prince was in shock, unable to step up and unite their hearts as he had until then. Some of the shadows on his face had disappeared and he looked like he was living in the present time again, but other ghosts were haunting his eye, now, and he didn't seem to know how to get out of it.

Judai could only hope that he would be able to help him, especially now.

"I'm going to ask Dimitri," he decided, "Felix or not, we need the Alliance's help anyway."

"We'll find Felix," Ingrid grumbled, "we need to. We need to tell him..."

His father was dead. Another corpse on top of the others, yet this one hurt harder somehow. Maybe because Judai remembered living in his castle for a month, he remembered his kindness, he remembered his tired face, he remembered his smiles and the way Manuela had kissed him, he remembered the promise that he would apologize to Felix, soon, he remembered soft-spoken questions about faith and total acceptance of whatever Judai was, he remembered the man as a ray of hope.

He barely remembered his own uncontrollable sobbing, when he had seen his dead body, but he remembered very well the cold that had embraced him, a bit later, when reports had mentioned that no one could find Felix.

Even if Felix was alive, Judai had a feeling learning of his father's death would hit him a lot more than he would like to admit. As if the young man wasn't already grieving enough for all the hurt that war was bringing him...

If he was alive, Judai hoped he could at least bring Dimitri back to him, because right now, their prince could definitely not hold a complicated conversation, especially with someone he had just felt he had wronged, or had definitely wronged in the Alliance’s case.

"Why do you hate the Alliance so much?" he asked Ingrid.

He had had a few words from Felix, not enough to get an opinion. Sylvain's words had only mentioned the pretty girls, and other nobles had mostly clinical descriptions. A few soldiers had mentioned how retorse their politics could be, which Judai had already guessed. And then there was his meeting with Claude, that had said a lot about him as a person, but not about the Alliance. That was all. Ingrid stared at him.

"I don't hate the Alliance," she said.

"Could have fooled me."

"I don't," she insisted, "I don't like a lot of their values, but I also know that there are good people there. They didn't try to wage war on us, didn't even join forces with the Empire despite how easy it would have been. I just..."

She bit her lips, at loss.

"I'm... not fond of Claude," she ended up admitting, "it’s annoying how brilliant he is, he seems to do everything effortlessly, and as a result, he allows himself to be negligent and nonchalant, as if his noble title doesn’t actually matter to him. He shows no care in the way he should act, manipulates everyone, and during the last months at the academy, you couldn't see him without Felix. Like he was parading him around."

The bitterness in her voice was almost amusing. Judai felt too weary to chuckle at it.

"Did he really? Was he looking at you smugly or something to give you that impression? Because from what little I heard from Felix, it seemed more to me like he enjoyed the guy's presence."

Ingrid snorted.

"Felix doesn't enjoy anyone's presence."

"We both know that's a lie. However, Felix dislikes chivalry and most of the stuffy aspects of nobility that Faerghus seems to have."

Ingrid turned, glaring at him.

"What are you trying to say?"

He stared back.

"I'm saying that maybe you were just jealous." That was definitely what her words about the man’s brilliance implied, in any case.

She balked, disgust on her face.

"What? Jealous? That's ridiculous. Why the hell would I..."

"Because one of your oldest friends, who you didn't seem to reach anymore, suddenly started having fun with people that weren't you?"

A long time ago, Shou had hated Johan, he remembered. As his first friend, Shou had hated when Judai got close to other people. It wasn't Shou's fault that Johan and Judai just clicked, it wasn't anyone's really. But it was the kind of thing that happened.

"I have no reason to feel jealous," Ingrid scoffed.

"So you didn't feel like you were being replaced? No one would blame you if you felt that way, it’s just natural."

"Replaced?" she said with confusion.

Her face was morphing, a sad frown turning into anger and some kind of understanding.

"I'm not saying he replaced you, in fact I'm pretty sure he didn't. But... Ingrid, you and I both know that he didn't stay here because he believed in Dimitri's cause more than the Alliance's."

"Right," she spat, "he stayed because he thought we were keeping him a prisoner in his own home."

"He could have left anytime he wanted," Judai said, "I've seen him go train at dark, when no one was watching him. If he had wanted, he could have left easily then. But he didn't."

There was a silence following his statement. She had known, probably, but hadn't wanted to think about it. The war was already so complicated, what with some of her friends being on the other side of it. There was no time to wonder about every little thing that was wrong. How she probably regretted it now.

"What does that mean?" she ended up muttering.

"I'm not sure," Judai admitted, "I'm not even sure he knows. The one thing I'm sure of is that being forced to pick a side between the Kingdom and the Alliance must have torn him apart. And I don't think he ever managed to. Pick a side."

"There should have been no discussion. As a noble of the Kingdom, he has a duty to it."

"So you wish he had chosen blind loyalty? The thing he hates more than anything else?"

Judai stared at her and she shuddered. Her worry was making her furious, but even she knew she wasn't being fair. Her voice was trembling, as if she was holding onto her anger because it was less painful than the other options.

"What I'm about to say will sound mean," Judai sighed, "but if it was a matter of loyalty, then I think he would have picked the Alliance instantly."

"Then why did he stay?" she muttered again.

"Love, I'd say. No matter how much he wanted to follow the Alliance and cared for his friends over there, he couldn't leave you guys alone."

Judai sighed again, why did things have to be so complicated?

"He stayed out of love..."

And with that, Ingrid, though she tried not to show it, started sobbing.

"He needs to be alive," she gasped painfully, "please, I need him to be alive."

Judai patted her back, softly, comfortingly.

"I'll ask Dimitri if we can organize a meeting with the Alliance in his stead as soon as we're back to camp," he swore, "and we'll find him. I promise you we'll find him."

He didn't promise they'd find him alive. He wasn't that cruel.

To Judai’s non-surprise, the lords were arguing when they came back. Rodrigue hadn’t been the only one of them to be a casualty of battle, but if Judai were to be honest, he was a bit miffed at how many of them were unscathed, clothes unruffled, as if they hadn’t even been _in_ the battle. Some had fought, he knew that, but some definitely had only pretended to. To his annoyance too, their stubborn faces were staring at Gilbert, the older man standing with a desperate-looking Caspar. Judai sincerely hoped they were not accusing the young man of anything, or he might start throwing hands with some people. He was _not_ in the mood for dumb pettiness. He nodded at Ingrid.

“Take a break,” he instructed her, “you’ve been working non-stop.”

“Sure,” she mumbled, sounding defeated.

He strided purposefully towards the group, sudden silence accompanying his steps. All eyes turned to him. He probably looked pretty annoyed because he would have sworn some of these people actually seemed scared when they saw him.

“What is going on here?”

“We’re discussing betrayals,” a nobleman Judai was pretty sure he had only seen once or twice said, crossing his arms, “or more exactly the fact that we were fooled.”

“Caspar doesn’t have a deceiving bone in his body,” Judai rolled his eyes, “you’re just looking for someone to blame.”

The man started sputtering and Judai ignored him, turning to Caspar.

“Is everything alright?”

“Wha…” Caspar startled and then scratched his head, looking contrite. “Oh, yes, it’s fine. I… I kind of deserve it.”

“And why is that?”

“Young lord Bergliez,” Sir Gilbert said softly, “you are in no way responsible. Nerves were frayed and you had a position to hold. You tried to warn people, you actually did the most to try and stop this tragedy from happening, out of all of us.”

The young man lowered his eyes, as if ashamed.

“Still,” he mumbled, “I feel like I should have looked more.”

“I feel like I’m missing something,” Judai commented lightly.

“The assassin,” Caspar winced, “Fleche… She’s my aunt. Not by blood, but…”

Oh.

Pain washed over Judai, but he simply nodded. Caspar was a terrible liar, they would have noticed a long time ago if he had planned to betray them.

"Before the battle," he added hesitantly, "I thought I saw her, even told Felix, Sylvain and Lord Fraldarius about it. But when I couldn't find her again, I thought I had just... seen things, you know?"

Sylvain had been with Judai, far away from Dimitri when she had struck, Felix had already been missing at the time, and Rodrigue had...

"I agree with Gilbert," Judai said softly, "you did more than any of us did. Don’t feel guilty."

Caspar looked down, still wracked with guilt. But then, he nodded, more to himself than to them. One of the nobles that were present started protesting. Judai just glared at her, letting his eyes shine gold for a second. She stepped back. A man, by her side, started looking nervous too.

“Now that this is decided,” Judai said coldly, “does anyone have anything to add?”

Silence. So they knew what was good for them. Caspar fidgeted, nervously.

“You guys are nice,” he said awkwardly, “I don’t…”

Judai wasn’t sure what he was going to say, probably something stupid about not deserving their kindness. He was mentally destroying himself, thinking he could have done more… Judai was intimately familiar with the feeling, but he’d repeat it any time necessary: Caspar hadn’t done anything wrong. Luckily, the young man seemed to know this kind of discussion would lead nowhere.

“Hum, Sir Gilbert? May I go back to what you asked of me?”

“Please,” the old man hummed softly, “it is not a gracious task and I am grateful that you accepted it.”

“I may have betrayed the Empire, but… they were my people too. It’s the least I can do.”

“Maybe. But allow me to thank you again.”

Caspar nodded, nose scrunching up as it usually did when one tried to stop themselves from crying. With how quickly he departed, Judai kind of expected him to start by isolating himself a bit to have a good sob. He probably needed it. They all did. Judai figured it'd come for him when he didn't feel so empty anymore. Hopefully.

His eyes went back to the lords, forcing ice back on his face.

“We need to negotiate with the Alliance,” he said bluntly, “at this rate there’s nothing else that we can do without their support.”

“We cannot!” Another lord - he thought he remembered Rodrigue calling him the current governor of Itha as its previous Duke had been killed during a coup - spoke. “They have murdered our messengers, sending men to them would only let them keep killing us one after the other!”

“We have no proof of that,” Gilbert intervened.

“Proof or no proof!” The noblewoman from before protested. “That would mean putting ourselves beneath the Alliance, we can’t show such weakness!”

“This is not how an alliance works,” a third lord said shyly, clearly scared, “we would be equals, at least on paper.”

“Paper is something,” the governor of Itha spat, “but that wouldn’t be the case. The only strongholds around here belong to Leicester, we’d be at its mercy!”

“And how is that worse than our current situation?”

Judai’s words had been cold, and clearly, the lords felt it with the way they just froze and looked at him. He knew his eyes were flashing gold with barely restrained anger, but he just glared at them, staying calm. There was a voice that sounded like his, at the back of his mind, telling him that these people were scared above all, that it was fear that was making them act rashly and unreasonably. Maybe a bit of arrogance, too, but fear, mostly. He ignored it. It wasn’t by using kids gloves that he’d make them understand.

“Let me make things clear,” he said softly, “I am going to go ask our prince if he opposes negotiations with Leicester. I don’t think he will, but in all truth, his answer doesn’t matter that much to me, it will just mean I either act with his agreement or against it. We _are_ reaching out for Leicester whether he agrees or not, and it’s the same for you. Right now, your _pride_ doesn’t matter as much as _keeping our men safe_ , understood?”

He could swear he had heard Yubel, speaking through him for just a second. Good. Some of the lords looked scared. Some nodded, others just didn’t say anything, looking at him with wide eyes. Gilbert bowed, the deference making him feel sick. But if it allowed them to save their soldiers? Then he would accept it with no hesitation.

“No objections? Good. Then I’m going,” he growled before turning and leaving, to the outskirts of camp, the last place where he had seen the prince.

Dimitri was much the same as he had been before they had left to search for Felix. Pacing, wringing his hands in hopelessness, looking dazed and shocked, but more anchored to the real world than Judai had ever seen him. Judai searched deeply inside him for the strength to rejoice about that. It would come, in time, he would be glad that one good thing had resulted from that massacre. But today, he felt too exhausted, it refused to come.

"Did you find him?" Dimitri asked immediately.

"Not yet," Judai answered, "how are you doing?"

His shoulders fell at these words. His one eye stared at the ground and his frame shook, all curled up. Judai wasn't sure he had ever seen him look so small.

"I don't know," the prince mumbled, "I... That girl..."

Of course he was thinking about the assassin. The young girl who had jumped on him after the battle, stabbing him once, then coming back for more. Rodrigue had intervened. The blade had hit him instead. Apparently, the wound had been too deep, it had touched something vital, no one had managed to save the Duke Fraldarius. But Judai hadn't seen it happen.

He had been dancing somewhere else, he couldn't even remember where. Gronder Field was much bigger than he had expected, despite everything. In fear of losing sight of allies, he had stayed with Sylvain, holding the line instead of going to the offensive. They had mostly stayed in the Southern part of the field, pushing West, slowly…

He remembered the fire, how it had felt like waking up, like a slap to the face. Suddenly, the screams and blood around him, that his mind had been trying to occult, had been very much real, and so he had tried to go there. He remembered the soldiers all around him, looking horrified, some of the Imperial ones even stopping the fight to run towards the hill. More than anything, he could remember Sylvain. Holding him back despite his own eyes wide open in horror, telling him desperately that people there were already handling it, that he'd be too late if he went now. He was right, he was clearly right. But at the time, something had snapped inside him.

That hadn’t stopped him from breaking down in hysterical tears when he had found the prince after the battle, Rodrigue's dead body laying in front of him as sobs wracked his body. Soldiers had been keeping an enraged young girl wearing their colours on the ground. He had recognized her, distantly, one of the people from Hrym that had insisted to join them, and he wanted to scream in despair. Overwhelmed by these people’s kindness as they had been, none of them had thought about spies and assassins...

"What about her?" Judai asked, feeling far too numb. Not that long ago, just a few days, he had been puking in front of a beheaded body. Now, he had just spent hours on a battlefield full of corpses and barely felt anything.

"She said... Her brother..." The prince shivered and then exhaled, his breath shuddering. "I... might have killed him. She could be right that I... I'm not sure, but it's..."

He started laughing, unbelieving. His voice was horrified and shocked, as if noticing for the first time the amount of blood on his hands. He had no idea whether or not he had really killed the girl's brother, Judai thought with a sigh, and whether he had or not, it didn't change much. But being confronted to such pain, while going through the heartbreak of losing Rodrigue...

A wake-up call much needed, but that felt too harsh. Judai could still hear him, sobbing, repeating again and again, voice blank with terrible pain, how he was the one who should have died. And Judai had stared, memories choking him up. Yubel had had to scream at him to calm him down. Even now, as he looked at the prince, Judai could only recall a time he had felt the exact same way. When one wanted to sow death, whatever the reason, the price always ended up one they couldn't bear. Judai had been no exception, neither was Dimitri.

He had wanted to die too. He had. Deeply.

During his worst days, he kind of still wanted to.

Yubel embraced him, comforting despite how immaterial they were. Judai closed his eyes and let them surround him of their presence, giving him the strength he felt he sorely missed right now.

"What if you did?" he said after a while.

Dimitri's sobbing laughter stopped briefly. Judai didn't open his eyes.

"What if you did kill her brother? It is war after all."

"That doesn't change the grief I caused."

"It doesn't," Judai hummed, "I agree with you."

But reminding him of attenuating circumstances would not help him. Dimitri, drowning in his guilt as he was, wouldn't be able to listen, just like Judai still wasn't able to listen most days.

"War makes monsters out of us.” He repeated words that he had said something that felt like years ago. “So does grief. I know it certainly ruined me."

"...You told me. That you avenged your friends."

"I didn't just avenge my friends," Judai hummed, Yubel's presence still washing over him, keeping a veil between him and memories that would have him spiralling down, "I became a monstrous conqueror. I refused ever losing anything again, and in the process I lost myself. I killed. Again and again. I conquered and trampled. All trembled before me, for I left none who would defy me alive."

" _I love you_."

" _I love you too, my soul. I'm okay. Thank you._ "

Breathe. Deeply.

"When I came back to my senses, I, too, wanted to die."

"...Then how did you survive?"

How?

Judai almost burst out laughing, hysterically. How? He didn't have a bloody choice!

" _Judai..._ "

" _Do not blame yourself._ "

" _I'll stop blaming myself when you stop blaming yourself._ "

Oh Gods, both of them would be useless for a long time if they kept going like that, wouldn't they? He mentally patted their shoulder. Because in the end, it hadn't just been because of their fusion, was it? Shou's voice, pleading with him to stay, still echoed in his mind. His tears still felt painful. He remembered how, at the time, making his friends, his _family_ sad again had been even more unbearable than the idea of living.

"I decided to live for reparation," he said instead, "I dedicated my all to helping, saving, love and creation. To desperately try to have, one day, done as much good in my life as I had done evil."

"And where" Dimitri's voice sounded empty, hopeless. "does one start with that?"

Guidance. Judai could do guidance, couldn't he? He could try, at the very least.

"For you, I'd say sending a messenger to the Alliance would be a good start."

Dimitri's eye became distant. Sadder than ever. Just for a second, though, there was a glint there. Hope, maybe fondness? Finally, Dimitri nodded. He looked behind Judai for a second, as if seeing something Judai himself could not see. But then, he turned away, towards Judai, his eye clearer but mournful.

"We should not have made you fight," he said, his voice deep.

"I chose to."

"The mere fact that you were in that position was wrong. You should have gone to Garreg Mach, like Felix wanted you to."

"Maybe I should have," Judai smiled helplessly, "but I didn't. I didn't want to."

Because he had wanted to be there for them. It wasn't ideal, but that was what made these decisions so complicated, wasn't it?

"I'll go tell Gilbert we can send a messenger," he said.

"Go," Dimitri agreed, still looking far too small, "I will... I need to think. In the meantime, I am counting on you"

Judai winced.

"Don't say that. I'm not a responsible person. And you've known me for what? A few months?"

"I trust you," and for the first time since they had met, Dimitri's voice held the gravitas and sincerity one could expect from a rightful king, "I cannot... not trust you. Not when you stood by me all this time, despite only ever seeing me at my worst."

There was nothing that could describe perfectly the emotions that rushed through Judai at these words. His breath left him as he opened his mouth, not finding words to answer, and not even finding his voice to try to. His eyes stung for a second. He wasn’t sure what he could say, and that was when he noticed something.

It looked like a slight shudder in the air, a small mirage surrounding the prince. Judai blinked and it had gone away, but the man was frowning, as if suddenly even more tortured than he had been just before. Taken by a terrified inspiration, Judai stepped forward and raised a hand, touching his face.

It was like a punch to the stomach.

Light. Light under his fingers. Almost nothing, he realized quickly with relief, far from a possession, just enough to influence slightly, to make one more susceptible to suggestions of violence. How long had this been here? he thought with horror. How long, and he hadn’t even noticed?

Sure, he thought as he mentally closed his fingers on it and smothered it, it was just a small quantity, nothing _too_ intrusive, it could hide itself well enough from his view, but still. He had been in contact with Dimitri for months! It was just the first time he was touching his skin directly. He should have felt it before! He should have realized something was wrong! How had he not…

One could not blame all of the prince’s reckless fighting on the Light, he thought helplessly, but maybe had he realized it, making him listen would have been easier, they could have reached him, they could have reasoned with him!

The fact that he was fighting it, right now, was impressive all in itself, but it was late! It might not have even been necessary had Judai done _his damn job_! Self-loathing felt like choking, drowning on dry land.

Dimitri blinked, as if he were just waking up. His voice was small when he spoke.

“What… did you just do?”

Judai shook his head, horror in his chest.

“Nothing,” he croaked out, “I just saw… You’ll be fine. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine, I promise.”

He gulped, closed his mouth, overwhelmed, and just left, unable to deal with the realization of all he might have been able to stop, all along. 

Gilbert was speaking with Sylvain when he found him. The red-haired young man was still wearing his black armor. His face was pale, with none of his usual fake smiles or joking winks. His armor might have been on, but the one he had put around his heart had exploded, leaving only raw pain and fear leading him. He had been searching the battlefield as much as Judai and Ingrid had, never pausing. If they let him keep going like that, he'd collapse before the end of the day, but, Judai thought desperately, what else would they have him do?

When he reached them, Gilbert turned and bowed again. Judai’s chest felt like it flipped around at the deference once more.

"Did His Highness talk to you?" Gilbert asked.

"He did. But sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. Keep going."

"It doesn’t matter,” Sylvain said, voice hoarse, “what did His Highness say?"

He looked downright desperate.

"Dimitri agreed to send a messenger to the Alliance again," Judai said, "to reach out and negotiate for an alliance or at least a treaty, something like that."

"Good," the word was so deeply relieved, Judai almost winced, "please, let me go there."

He was shaking, the poor boy. There was no way they could drag him all to the other side of Gronder, not in the state he was in.

"No Sylvain," Gilbert said, "you need to rest. I will send a messenger immediately and ask them to prepare for a delegation. Then, I'll go there myself, with my squire."

That was quite the risky plan. With Rodrigue... Well, as long as Dimitri was _thinking_ , Gilbert was the de facto leader of the army. Sending him away like that didn’t sit well with Judai.

"But..." Sylvain started.

"With the current situation," the old man insisted, "we need to stay prudent when facing people we have wronged. I would rather we only have one person of influence going there. But it would be a mark of disrespect to have any beneath my station."

There were days where Judai wasn't really fond of logic. This was one of them. He understood the reasoning, he even agreed with it. Or he would, if Gilbert wasn't _the only one they had left_. The only army commander here with the sway necessary to keep the other lords quiet despite their paranoia.

"Gilbert," he started, "I get it, but can't you think twice? Right now, Dimitri is getting better, but he's still not stable, we don't even know if he'll manage to get himself back together. In the meantime, you are leading the army. You're the only one who can!"

Gilbert stared at him, sad, grave eyes looking down.

"No," he said slowly, "I'm not."

Judai blinked. Not understanding. And then it dawned on him and no…

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no stop no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no don’t let him no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no he couldn’t no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no there was no way no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no _no no no no no no no no no no no no_ he couldn’t not again NO NO NO...

Yubel screamed in his ears and he stumbled in shock, panicked breathing escaping his lungs as the world came back to him like a violent, cold storm. Sylvain's hand caught him before he fell, but the man wasn't looking at him, still looking at Gilbert in shock. What had he... Why would he… He couldn’t...

"You must be joking," Sylvain said, voicing the words Judai kept repeating in his own head, Yubel shushing him and comforting him with all of their heart and might.

"I am not," Gilbert said, "this is only a very temporary measure. But with our army in disarray, as long as I'm not here and with His Highness unable to assume the position, a symbol is necessary. You have proved earlier that, when you take charge, you have what it takes to stop our paranoid lords from messing with our efforts."

He smiled, a small thing that held much sadness, but also absolute trust.

"It should only be a few hours," he promised, "I'm sure you can do it."

Judai deeply disagreed, but his voice felt stuck in throat. Gilbert left them without waiting for it to come back. Sylvain stared, mouth agape, as if he had not realized, all this time, that his and Rodrigue's plan would come to that. The young man shook his head and turned to Judai, trying to smile, clearly to reassure him. Did this work on people who didn't know how fake he was? Judai didn't know. He just knew that right now, this smile made him look even more wrecked than before. It didn't erase the sheer panic in his eyes, nor the paleness of his face, not even the tremble in his fingers.

"And here I thought he'd just ask you to perform ritual rites for the dead," he said with a small, hysterical laugh.

"Of course not," Judai heard himself say, "I don't know any of them. It's going to be Mercedes..."

"You're right," Sylvain exhaled, "you're right."

His fidgeting fingers let go of Judai after a few seconds. He looked at him, face desperate, and then shook his head.

"I'm going to watch over Dimitri," he said.

"Okay."

"I was... supposed to talk to the prisoner."

As an army commander, that made sense. Annette and Mercedes were too busy in their improvised infirmary, Ingrid was supposed to check on the Pegasi's health after her break, Felix was missing, Gilbert gone and Rodrigue... Yes, that only left Sylvain... Devastated, terrified Sylvain who just wanted to see his friends safe and would probably break down if Dimitri didn't get better, if Felix didn't turn up alive... This was not a good state of mind for this kind of duty. Judai wasn't sure what he'd do to the girl, but it wouldn't have been pleasant.

Not that Judai would be pleasant with her either.

"I'll do it," he heard himself talk once again, as if separated from his own body, "tell them, if someone asks for me."

He barely watched him leave, focused how he was on how he couldn't hear Yubel's voice, like that. Somehow, he wished there were enough shadows around here to let them take the reins of his body for once, being able to rest and lick his wounds in a warm, safe place inside his own soul.

"Love," he gasped softly, alone and shivering, "Love, come back."

There was a small nudge. Still here, of course, it was obvious but still a relief. He was the problem, cutting himself away from everything as a vain attempt at protection. Better than being one second away from committing violent murder, he supposed.

His feet heavily led him to the place where they held their prisoners. A large number of soldiers had actually surrendered to them. Some had looked horrified and pale, chased away by the ruthlessness of the Empire for its own citizens. Some had done so growling, more in hope of survival than because they felt they had a choice. A few of them glared at Judai when he passed by. Another laughed, deeply, almost manic when he saw him. It was a stupid thought, but for a moment Judai felt as if he was mocking him for failing to notice the Light influencing Dimitri...

After a while, finally, he ended up where they had left the young girl, tied up. She had stopped spitting insults and screaming for a while, it seemed, and it was probably a testimony of how shocked the soldiers had been at Rodrigue's death that she was unharmed. The one guarding her bowed when seeing Judai. He felt a shiver down his spine, but simply saluted him, wondering for how long the men had seen him as one of their commanding officers, worthy of such respect... The soldier moved a bit, likely to give him and the prisoner a bit of privacy.

"Hello," he said, feeling as tired as his voice was, "so I hear you're Caspar's aunt."

She seethed, eyes burning with hatred.

"That _traitor_ ," she spat, "I can't believe all his time he was there, with the enemy!"

"Well yes, here he was, because our cause appealed more to him apparently. What about you? Were you here just to kill Dimitri?"

She scoffed, then looked around and raised an eyebrow. One of her pigtails had fallen apart, hair tie going loose.

"Who are you?" she said harshly. "I don't recognize your face."

"Well I can't believe it myself," more like he didn't want to, "but I'm the current temporary leader of that army. You know, since you killed the last one."

"The prince isn't leading your army," she almost laughed, disdain colouring her voice, "figures."

"So you hit the right target while aiming for the wrong one?"

"I don't care if he was the leader or not," she spat, "it's the beast I wanted dead, not whoever was foolish enough to get between us."

"So it's a grudge," Judai hummed, "why is that?"

She stayed silent. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"You know, I'm trying to let you give your version of the facts. According to the witnesses, you screamed something about your brother so I can try and figure out the rest, but I'd rather you spare yourself my guessing games. They're usually not that entertaining."

"Fine," she growled, "he killed my brother, that's why, are you happy?"

"Yes and no. I understand your pain, but we kill a lot of people in combat. It's war after all, nothing personal. The soldiers that get on the battlefield know it."

"That's different."

"Why?"

She glared and he just stayed here, too wry and tired to fake intimidation. She looked like a young kitten trying to hunt a gigantic dog, to him. Way over her head and not realizing how harshly she might fall.

"Because my brother was a good man."

"So was the man you killed."

"No good man would follow that beast!" She screamed.

Judai laughed despite himself. Oh, if she knew. Dimitri was no beast, just a man who had lost his mind to the song of the dead and was trying, desperately, to regain it. And Rodrigue had been a kind, fatherly man who wanted to protect a boy he saw as a son, a relationship not entirely unlike the one that had made her act in such a violent way. Judai, on the other hand... Well he had no patience for that right now.

"A beast, you say?" He repeated bemusedly.

"Everyone knows it," she seethed, "the mad prince of Faerghus is a beast!"

"Everyone is a beast in war. How can you even know it was him who killed your brother?"

"Who else would be savage enough to kill someone by first ripping his back and then cutting his head?!"

Judai blinked. And then felt a bit of sickness in his gut. Oh. _Oh_. Yubel growled and he could hear them again. Their fury pierced through his guilt like a blade, a red-hot iron mark against his mind. It was like a switch was pushed in his head, bringing back the anger he had felt in front of the lords, just a few hours earlier.

"Really," he said, voice cold, "that's how you decided it. You know, little girl, I know who your brother is, now. And Dimitri did not kill him."

"What?" The shock in her voice was aggravating.

"Your brother tried to run me through," he said, feeling himself get colder and colder with anger, "but he hurt himself in the process. Deeply. Nothing could have healed him. He was in for a slow death. And then? Despite how much I hate blood and death? I cut his head off. Because I hated the idea of letting him suffer through it even more. _That's_ what happened, little girl, not whatever sadistic machination you imagined."

The girl, Fleche, started shivering. She still looked angry, but more uncertain. Judai could only feel compassion for her loss, that was true. But her actions and reasoning had exhausted the pity he could have had for her.

"You monsters," she growled, "what do you know about suffering! You kill without caring about it! Without a second thought about the one you cause!"

"Why, because he was your brother?"

"He was a good man, a loved one!"

"The man you killed was a father and a beloved commander, known for always putting his citizen's and troops's health first. He had a fiancee waiting for him at home. Yet you didn't seem to care about that when you killed him.”

"I didn't aim for him!"

"Does that make it any better?"

"I was trying to avenge my brother!"

Judai laughed again, harsh and unpleasant, an angry sound, full of ice cold fury. In his head flashed all the times Rodrigue had smiled at him, that moment he had given him a room in his castle, the way he had kissed Manuela, his exhausted face as he admitted that Felix wasn't completely wrong about him…

"Right." He spart. "The cycle of vengeance. Does that mean you'll let his son kill you next?"

She stayed silent for a second, shoulders shaking a bit, eyes still defiant, but losing strength, tears at their corners. He still had no pity for her.

"That's different," she tried.

"Why?"

Silence, again. She opened her mouth, likely trying to mention a reason but not finding any. In the end it was all about her being hurt and feeling justified in giving the same hurt back. He had been the same, once, and he held as much disgust for himself as he did for her, right now. He pictured Dimitri’s face as he asked for revenge, reckless, self-destructive and letting misery dictate his way towards more misery. Maybe it was that too, he thought, that had snapped him out of it: seeing how destructive revenge could get, involving people that had nothing to do with it. He hated himself for it, would probably have let the girl plunge the knife inside his chest if he thought it could make things better or bring back the man he thought his recklessness had killed (it hadn’t, it had been Judai, all along, would he hate him if he knew?).

"We're in a war, little girl." he hissed. "A war we didn't choose. So next time you want to complain about injustices and how your brother didn't deserve to die but whoever you killed totally did, please remember who it was who started it."

From what Judai could see, that was the main difference here. That realization of how monstrous such violence was, even when you were the one behind it instead of the one suffering from it.

He turned away before the need to lash out more could possess him. Self-righteous, hypocritical, aggravating kid... Why did it surprise him? He had already noticed how easy it was for people to dehumanize those they hunted, to believe that the hurt they inflicted was necessary while the one they felt was unforgivable. He had lived through it.

But he knew better now. Oh, he knew better. He hadn’t followed Dimitri because he thought he deserved that revenge after all. As far as he was concerned, you didn’t win a war by destroying your opponents, but by saving the ones you loved. Just like so many of the Kingdom soldiers had followed Dimitri because they believed fighting the Empire was the easiest way to end the war and the senseless killing, saving the citizens of the Dukedom…

Others had probably followed because they wanted revenge too, he thought wearily, that was unfortunately a common and understandable reaction in general, anger was part of grief… How many here had lost someone precious? He didn’t know. But how many had left their comrades behind and gone inside Imperial camps to assassinate whoever they thought was responsible? Well, only one. One who was now a self-loathing, shaking figure at the outskirts of their camp.

"Watch her for a bit longer," he told the soldier, "we're waiting until Gilbert is back before deciding what we do with her."

"Yes sir," the soldier bowed. Again, that deference. He was too angry, right now, to feel his chest tighten in fear.

Leaving the girl and the soldier behind, he walked into the misty campment they had established the previous night. It was starting to get cold and as the temperature dropped, so did his fury.

" _Hey..._ " Yubel hummed.

" _I know. I shouldn't have lost it like that._ "

" _I won’t ever judge you for getting angry, I hope you know that.._ "

His hand fell on theirs. It almost felt like they could touch...

" _Hey Yubel... It's been a long time. Do you remember how to pray?_ "

He felt so dizzy, suddenly, as if everything was catching up to him. Yubel embraced him.

" _Of course I do, my dear. But why would you pray?_ "

Why would a God pray, indeed? Judai didn't know. He didn't even know if Sothis was in a position to listen, but he wanted to try.

"I just want to pray," he said softly.

Because it was some kind of solace. Throwing all your worries and wishes at one great entity who could receive them. It almost didn't matter if they listened or answered, in the end it was expressing them, even if just to the wind, that freed you. And Judai felt... far too burdened, right now. He couldn't lead an army, not again, never, even for a few peaceful hours. He was scared, he had no idea what was waiting for them or what they were expecting of him. He didn't know what to do, he was lost...

And so he prayed. He prayed for Dimitri's mind and Felix's safety. He prayed for that girl, and he prayed for Rodrigue's soul. He prayed for Sylvain and Ingrid to find some sleep, and he prayed for Gilbert's negotiations with the Alliance to be successful. He prayed, he prayed.

Because by now, all he could hope for was for the Universe to be generous.

Word came and went, like the wind, like an aggravated ray of sunlight that wanted to bypass a tree’s shade. It flew by and sang its dread song into the air, reaching out for its benefactor, its stronghold, its victims. It sang and mumbled about a vessel lost, a vessel that should be under the influence again, soon enough. It was still everywhere, after all, it was already inside.

But it was in danger, it was in danger, it hummed to those who had summoned it and used its power to such beautifully great effect. It was in danger, and everyone needed to know it.

It was in danger. Because the Supreme King now had an army again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The game always made it pretty obvious that it wasn't just Rodrigue's death that shook Dimitri out of his rage and self-loathing. If anything, he was ready to leave again, alone that time so there'd be no more victims other than him. What finally puts him back on the right path is our hand, reaching out for him and telling him he can still atone. Judai has this role, here, which I think is appropriate due to all of their parallels. (Also I do wonder: how many of you had noticed that Judai felt ill or in pain everytime he touched Dimitri and had guessed that this part and the fact that he calmed Dimitri's ghosts had to do with the Light? :3)  
> I feel one of the most ironic things about Fleche's revenge in AM is that it's not Dimitri who kills Randolph, but Byleth, who also ends up killing her right after her attempt. I find interesting how the game deals with vengeance, because all wishes for revenge end in tragedy; Byleth avenging their father is what forces Sothis tu fuse with them, Dimitri either loses Rodrigue or dies himself, and Fleche ends up killing someone who had nothing to do with any of her grudge and dying from the hand of the one who should have been her target. I'm not sure myself why I kept her alive here. I can't even say it was to have Judai snap on her, that only came to me as I wrote the scene, but it's one of the multiple little things his presence changes I guess. So, yeah, Judai is snapping. It's no surprise with everything happening, plus he just lost someone and we all know he doesn't deal well with that. Still, while I understand the urge and need, it's no wonder she exploded either: he just told her, bluntly, how her brother died. No one would have not been upset.  
> In any case, I hope you liked that chapter despite its somber tone!


	25. Chaptre 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix wakes up among familiar faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclaimer: this was my favourite chapter to write. It wasn't my favourite to edit or even to reread, but I just loved writing it for some reason and as such it has a really important place in my heart. I don't expect it to be anyone else's favourite xD but there was just something about it. Both the soft moments and the painful ones, they were so... it wasn't even fun, it was something else. There was something I can't explain, but I guess I just really loved exploring comfort, grief and so many other emotions that happen here. It just gave me a "cold morning" vibe the whole way through, I don't know if it makes sense? When you wake up early and go out and there's still morning dew and everything is grey and far too cold for spring... Or maybe that's just a thing my brother and I share a strange fondness for.  
> This is also I believe the only chapter for which the lyrics I use come from a song I was actually listening to when writing part of it. The last part of the chapter, more precisely.  
> By the way, today's random fact about the game is the Special Bonds Mechanic, that gives bonus stats when two units stand together. There was a chart of it in an official guide if I remember well and it held quite a few surprises. More than anything, the fact that Dorothea/Hilda and Marianne/Bernadetta had one, despite these two pairs not having even one interaction in game. It always makes me wonder if supports had been planned for them, before, and if so why they were erased despite the mechanics still existing in game (to give examples of other special bonds, Ingrid Sylvain and Felix are the only trio to have all one with each other in the game. Others include Ignatz & Raphael the childhood friends, and each leader with their retainer, as well as Catherine and Shamir, Annette has one with Mercedes as well as her father, and so on). I've been wondering about what kind of relationship these two support-less pairs could have. I hope one day I'll be able to write at least a one-shot on these, since Marianne and Hilda are some of my favourites and I'm always hungry for more interactions with them.

**Chapter 24**

_I could hear the signs calling out from the bottom of the fire_

_I am like a torch flickering in the wind as the saying goes_

_Lost all my precious, rage ate me up_

_Endless forlornness has made me numb_

**1st Day of the Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1186**

**Felix**

When Felix came to, the whole world was blurry. He was sore, everywhere, and moving, even just slightly to avoid the harsh sunlight, was painful.

When he opened his eyes again, there was only white. White fabric over him. A tent, he figured, he was in a tent.

A hand fell softly on his brow, wiping it slowly, delicate, like a shy ‘hello’. He blinked, trying to find out who it belonged to. The fingers cupped his cheek fondly, and there was a sigh. Relief. Felix blinked again and his vision focused enough.

Pale skin, a white tunic and long, longer than it used to be lavender hair. Yuri's pretty face smiled at him.

"Hey, Most Beautiful."

The small smile that graced his lips was instinctual, he didn't have time to fight it. But then, everything came back to him in one quick, frightening flash. He tried to stand, only to collapse back on the bed, burning pain shooting through him.

"Hey, hey," Yuri's calm voice was saying as he laid his hands on him, tracing small healing glyphs on his bare skin, "don't try anything rash, you're not completely healed."

The Faith magic seeped into his bones, calming down the pain. Felix blinked again and looked at him. His face was fine, a bit red on the side, but healed. Bernadetta had apparently brought him quickly enough for the healing to be complete. He wasn't wearing warrior garb, though, but thin, grey fabric. Infirmary clothes.

"You were touch and go for a while," Yuri kept going, "according to Linhardt and Marianne, you're a lucky bastard to be alive."

Lucky to be alive. His arms were too heavy.

"Claude?" he mumbled.

"Perfectly fine, thanks to you. Made sure you got permanent Faith magic supervision just in case. That's why I'm here despite being, you know..."

He gestured towards himself and his undignified clothing, almost dramatically.

"Your burns healed," Felix noted out loud.

"All new! Bernie said it was thanks to you. I unfortunately can’t say I remember most of it, since I only woke up this very morning."

Felix rolled his eyes.

"She's the one who carried you, not me."

His head was hurting, he closed his eyes.

"She alright?"

"Officially, she's a political prisoner. Officiously, Marianne already made sure everyone knows she's actually a refugee. I think she likes her and feels protective."

Felix hummed, still feeling far too tired. Yuri had woken this morning, he had said...

"How long..." he started.

"The battle concluded yesterday during the afternoon. We’re just a little bit past noon, right now. It was the Kingdom's victory, so we're not sure when we'll be able to collect our dead, unfortunately."

"The dead..."

Flashes came to him. Things he wasn’t sure he had actually seen in the rush of battle or if it was just his mind imagining the worst. Lysithea alone and unprotected, Ignatz betraying his position, hidden in a tree, Raphael wearing poor armor, Leonie limping… There were other people, too, Sylvain and Ingrid, that he left behind, blonde hair disappearing in a sea of enemies and that he left behind too, kind brown eyes turned to ice… But there was no way to ask about these, was there?

"The others..."

"They're fine. Raphael, that idiot, twisted his ankle and broke it by forcing it, so he's bed ridden and being an absolute sweetheart while annoying the staff because he refuses to hear that he can’t train for the moment. Leonie ruined her leg, but she's already walking again. Everyone else got minor injuries at most."

That sounded like Raphael. Felix smirked in his pillow. It fell again pretty quickly.

"The Kingdom won you say?"

"Yeah. The Empire troops retreated, so did we. That means a win for them, unless I know absolutely nothing about war."

Good, he supposed. Part of him wondered if anyone was looking for him. Maybe Sylvain would.

"Hey."

Yuri's hand reached for his hair, petting it. Felix glared at him, silently ordering him to stop. Yuri didn't stop. His pale eyes were gazing at his face, soft and maybe a bit vulnerable.

"You scared us," he said.

"I'm not the one who rushed into the fire. I thought you were above running recklessly without a plan."

Yuri's laughter was a bit amused.

"I thought so too. But I couldn't let Bernie die."

"And I couldn't let Claude die."

"I know. Which is why I won't tell you to never be that reckless again."

"Good."

As long as they understood each other. Like they often did, despite everything. Felix supposed it was the result of being the two Faerghan born men, among all these weirdoes from Leicester. Well, he figured that for them, Yuri and him were the weirdoes...

Felix sighed and let his tired body fall back on the stiff mattress.

"You can go back to sleep", Yuri said with a small laugh, "I'll tell everyone else of your miraculous survival as soon as I've got someone to replace me at your side. Leader's orders."

Felix hummed, his voice annoyingly weak. His body was becoming heavy again. He felt like he blinked, but one second later, there was no more hand in his hair, and instead someone was drawing healing glyphs on his skin once more. He opened his eyes to pink.

Hilda was humming happily, something that had no words. It reminded him of Manuela, back at home, who didn't do anything without a bit of music.

Home.

Fraldarius hadn't felt like home since he was fourteen and a dented armor had come back instead of his brother, yet he missed hearing Manuela singing in its halls. Dazed as he was, he barely felt it when Hilda stopped tracing healing spells on his skin and looked at him instead.

"Oooh," she suddenly squealed with delight, "you're awake! That's great!"

"You know Faith magic?" he grumbled as an answer. "Since when?"

His body didn't feel as heavy as before and when he tried to sit up, while he did need her steadying him, he didn't feel like his body was on fire anymore.

"Oh, Baltie taught me some these last years. He was bored and I had a dare with my brother so you know, win-win scenario. I'm atrocious at it, however. Don't expect me to sew you back together like Lin-lin did."

"What time is it?" 

"A few hours since you last were awake, almost evening. Marianne examined you to make sure you really were out of the woods before allowing someone as incompetent as me to take over."

Yuri grew his hair, so did Leonie. Claude had a beard. Hilda learnt Faith magic. What else did he miss?

His monthly correspondance with Claude had stopped far too abruptly with Dimitri's so-called execution and all that had followed.

"You'll be glad to know that the Kingdom has asked to meet with us. There was something about a parley and even a talk of apologies, and all of that. Claude is getting ready to see them, right now, preparing his speech and all I think, maybe groom himself to see Dimitri again, you know him. He could never resist trying to impress him."

"He shouldn't bother," Felix grumbled as she forced a glass of water in his hand.

"I agree," she said peppily, "Dimitri doesn't know anything about appearances. He's a rat. A pretty-looking one, but still a rat. Claude will always look better than him anyway."

That wasn't what Felix meant, but he still almost choked on his water, surprised laughter bubbling in his throat, painful to repress.

"They asked after you, you know?"

Hilda's look was somber, suddenly. She was frowning, serious. Too serious. Hilda almost never did serious.

"The envoys of the Kingdom," she added as if she needed to, "they asked if we had seen you. I answered we had saved a few Kingdom soldiers indeed. I didn't know if you'd want them to know you were here."

She was staring at his shoulder. Good. He didn't want her to see how his face twitched at that. She had to heal him. That was enough vulnerability in front of her for one full day. He liked Hilda, but she read far too well. And contrary to Claude and Yuri, she had no qualms throwing what was behind his anger back at his face.

Yet here she was, admitting she withheld important information to official Kingdom envoys just because she wasn't sure that would be what he wanted.

But that wasn't a question worth asking, he had resigned himself to it a long time ago.

"You could have told them," he said.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Their faces didn't look good. I wasn't sure you'd be in the right state to see them anyway."

"Are they still here?"

"I think they are, yes. I left soon after, had to watch over you after all."

She had lied, saying she didn't know if he was there, right before going to see him. The gall of that girl, he both loved and hated that about her.

"Felix, they really didn't look good," she added, "they looked wrecked. Something happened."

Something they probably needed him for, he thought, refusing to let his worry show. It all depended on who his father had sent, it could be anything… But Dimitri, at least, was probably fine. The Kingdom army would be too much of a wreck to even think about contacting them that soon if he had died. He sighed.

"Bring me to them."

"And make Marianne mad?" she gasped in horror. "Not even in your wildest dreams!"

"Marianne doesn't get angry."

"You're right, she gets _sad_ , that's worse. You've ever seen sad Marianne? Because believe me, it makes you feel like the scum of the earth."

He didn't need sad Marianne for that. He stared at her neck, not angry, but stubborn. Bitter, maybe, but he already knew it was going to happen.

He wanted to see Claude.

Claude who was preparing to meet the Kingdom envoys, he couldn’t waste time coming here, that was stupid. A child’s tantrum.

"I will ask Linhardt if you can have visitors," Hilda grumbled after a few seconds of standoff, "but if he says no, doctor’s orders are doctor’s orders, understood?"

She wouldn't leave until he mumbled some kind of angry ‘understood’. She'd probably drag him back to bed too and if she had changed as little as he felt she did (but she did change, right? He hadn't heard complain even once about combat.), then she was still definitely strong enough for such a feat, especially with how weak he currently was.

So he stayed put. Linhardt came in after a few minutes, seemingly asleep on his feet. His hair was tied in a messy bun and falling on his nape. Felix wondered if he had spent the whole night healing people or if his tiredness was just Linhardt being Linhardt. He yawned, checked on him for a few seconds, and then said:

"Physically you're okay. Don’t move too much and don’t raise your arms for the moment, you might reopen wounds, but you’re on the right path. Mentally, however, I have no competences. So in doubt, I'll ask our fearless leader."

And he was out again without even letting Felix say anything. Who cared about mentally, Felix wanted to tell him. After all, it wasn't as if being self-destructive and depressed had ever stopped Sylvain's parents from sending him to war with Sreng at fourteen. It wasn't as if the Boar's obsession with invisible ghosts had made the others decide he wasn't fit to lead them to battle. It wasn't as if Judai's obvious traumatic relationship with blood had given him a pass from dancing for all of them. Being mentally fine was of no consequence in a war, and even if it was, he was pretty sure he wasn't the worst off. But he couldn't complain when, a few minutes later, Claude entered the tent. There was a second of embarrassment, he hadn’t wanted anyone to bother Claude when he was preparing for something important. But he couldn’t complain.

It was nice to have the proof that he had arrived on time, right in front of him.

He was older. He remembered making that observation on the battlefield, but it had nothing on right now. His beard was thin, elegant, while the shadows under his eyes had darkened. Somehow, Felix doubted they had anything to do with him reading all night, this time.

He smiled when he saw Felix. That small smile, so sincere it hurt, because it reached his eyes. Fondness. Trust.

"Felix."

Felix swallowed.

"Khalid," he answered with a low voice.

Claude's smile strained a bit, but he just nodded. He sat on Felix's bedside, eyes unbearably warm. He hadn't grown taller, Felix noticed, bemused. Still barely taller than Felix himself. With how much older he looked, Felix had expected him to tower above him.

"I'm glad you're alright," Claude said softly, "I owe you my life."

"Why the hell were you alone in the middle of archers? I thought you were smart."

Claude laughed self-deprecatingly.

"Plans change. This change of plan was bad. Let's just say nothing in that battle worked as planned and stop here. We didn't know the Kingdom would be there until the very day of the battle for starters."

There was no accusation in his voice, yet Felix felt his heart reach the bottom of his stomach. He had always known it couldn’t have been them, with the messengers… But still, he hadn’t expected whoever had killed them (the Empire, obviously, who else could have… they were allied with these people who could disguise themselves as other people, that would make such actions easy) to have managed to keep Leicester enough in the dark that they wouldn’t even know that. All along, had they walked right into a trap? One of the Empire’s making to get rid of the two armies threatening it at once? That would make sense, the Emperor coming to Gronder field when she didn’t need to, a juicy bait that no one could have ignored. But then that meant...

"We ruined your plans?" he asked.

He didn't know why that possibility scared him so much. Claude put a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know if 'ruined' is the right word. This may not have been the expected result, but my plan wasn't a guaranteed victory either. More like a fifty-fifty chance truth being told, we were betting on Teach to make the difference count."

The Kingdom troops had fought some of the Alliance, Felix knew, there was no way Claude was okay with that. With the chaos, no one had cared about colours, whoever wasn’t from the Kingdom was an enemy. ‘ _Kill every last one of them._ ’ he remembered hearing Dimitri say before rushing to the fray. How many people took it literally...

Felix felt sick again.

"Felix. You're getting stuck inside your head."

Felix jumped. His eyes briefly raised to Claude's face before darting on the side, not able to handle the stare. Claude's grip on his shoulder tightened and Felix winced. The leader relaxed immediately. The pressure hadn't been painful, not really, but touch was difficult for Felix, right now.

Well, it had brought him back to the present for sure.

"Felix," Claude said softly, "the Kingdom got the victory. But we've had a lot less casualties than they do. They're asking me for help."

Here it was that worry, again, that he wished he could smother.

"You're going to say yes," Felix said numbly, "despite them attacking you unprovoked."

"Truth being said, I don’t know who started the hostilities," Claude said airily, "at that point, we hurt each other, searching for a culprit would just waste everyone’s time. But even if it was indeed the Kingdom’s fault, I would agree. For the good of my people. We'll have no chance of defeating Edelgard if we don't unite forces at this point."

"You do," Felix retorted, "you could probably take over the whole continent if you had time to plan and no idiotic Boar or his friends to ruin it for you."

Claude's answering laughter was almost shy, subdued. But once again it was sincere.

"You believe in me too much, Felix. It's flattering, really, but don't overestimate me. These days I've been relying more and more on luck."

"It's not luck," Felix snarled, imitating an annoying, but precious memory, "it's fate."

"I'm not a dumb teenager anymore."

"Neither am I."

And he looked. He forced himself to look into those green eyes.

"Your men are alive," he said slowly, "the Boar's are dead or don't exist in his eyes."

His breath shuddered as he fought against the desperate wish to turn away. Claude closed his eyes and Felix wanted to thank him for his consideration, he did! But the words stayed stuck in his mouth.

"Five years ago," he said instead, feverishly, "we joked about something, Yuri and I. I know it's not a joke anymore for him. And if I could, it wouldn't be a joke anymore for me either."

"Felix," Claude sighed.

He didn't say any other word. Instead, the hand on Felix's shoulder slipped behind his back, like a lax, one-armed hug. There was a lot in that hug. He didn't fight it, letting the embrace take all the words his chest was screaming but that his tongue refused to form. I missed you. I was so scared when I saw you alone on that battlefield. I trust you. I’m sorry. Thank you. Please don't let me leave again. Please let me leave. Please come with me when I leave, I can't stay here. They need me more. But I missed you. I missed you so much.

"I would never force you to pick a side," Claude promised.

"I know," Felix answered, because it was the truth.

And yet, Felix had chosen the Kingdom over him time and time again. Why did he do that when these few minutes of talking with Yuri, Hilda, Claude, despite how weak he felt, despite the pain and the wounds and hating being stuck in a bed, were the first time he felt like he could breathe in years?

Well, there was no need to ask such question, he thought with a sigh. Flashes kept running inside his head, flashes of people he couldn’t give up on, no matter what, people walking more dangerous paths than Claude, people on the front lines, people he maybe didn’t trust as much to stay safe, because he knew Claude looked after his people, but Dimitri was too broken to even look after himself, Sylvain was the same, Ingrid was a soldier through and through, she’d throw herself to the wolves if she thought it’d bring Faerghus a victory, and everything they were ever taught enabled that self-destruction, without asking any question.

He just… couldn’t leave them behind. No when even right now he feared that, in the few hours he had spent asleep, they had already managed to get themselves killed. They were his, despite everything. Not in the same way the Golden Deer were his, but his all the same.

Claude didn't smile as much as he did before, Felix noted when the man let him go, it wasn't as automatic as it used to, as if he didn't feel the need to smooth all of his emotions behind a carefree mask anymore. It was better this way. More honest. Claude had become more honest in these last five years, and Felix was glad, for all that he wished he could have helped with that.

But when had Felix helped anyone feel better, really? he thought bitterly. It was a fact of his life, that he made a mess of things and did nothing right. He had ruined all of his relationships himself and couldn’t even say ‘thank you’ or ‘sorry’ when it mattered. He could talk about how Ingrid was a soldier, but at least she believed in what she fought for. What did that make Felix, unable to do anything but fighting and not even doing so for good reasons? There was no wonder why, even now, his brother was more...

"Felix. You're getting stuck again."

Felix choked on his breath and shut his eyes tightly, letting his broken fingernails plunge into his skin out of frustration, hoping they'd bring him back. When he opened them again, Claude looked worried. Openly worried. He opened his mouth once, seemed to change his mind, but then talked anyway.

"There are people of the Kingdom here," he said, "they came here to talk with me, but when they heard you were rescued from the battlefield, they asked to see you."

"I know. Hilda wouldn't let me see them."

"Part of me wants to agree with her," Claude admitted sadly, "but I also know that it's not my decision to make."

Right. Claude wasn't his leader anymore. They had made that choice knowingly. That time he had helped Claude put an Aurora Shield on a wyvern, right before the battle of Garreg Mach, they had both, silently, known that it was their last time working side by side for the foreseeable future.

"It's not," Felix simply confirmed.

Claude nodded, his smile not really happy, but understanding. He turned towards the entrance of the tent, where a bundle of clothes had been laid down, all nicely folded. Felix's clothes were probably a disaster, now that he thought about it, all torn apart and awash with blood.

"Let me help you?" Claude said. It wasn't a question, despite the tone of voice. There was a bit of threat in his voice, more akin to 'you better let me help you, you'll reopen your wounds if you do it by yourself' instead of the soft inquiry it pretended to be.

"Go ahead," Felix rolled his eyes, "you asshole."

"I missed you too, you jerk."

There was nothing complicated about the clothing, an old white shirt, pants that were just a bit too big for him, and a small, dark green vest. He spared a second to wonder to whom it belonged, for the Alliance to give it to him so easily. But maybe it was just them, being much nearer to their HeadQuarters than Faerghus and having planned for a change of clothes as a result.

Hands went into his hair and he whipped his head around, almost hissing. Nope. No way.

"You still only let Yuri touch your hair?" Claude laughed a bit.

"He does it _right_." Felix mumbled, knowing he sounded petulant.

Claude laughed again, the sound quieter.

"Were you wearing Hilda's ribbon?"

"Certainly not. I don't take in on the battlefield."

He bit his tongue, feeling himself fluster at the admission. What kind of sentimental bullcrap was that? That wasn't like him!

... Who was he kidding. He had been hanging on his brother's black iron spurr for literal years despite what it represented, had been completely panicked when he had lost it at Garreg Mach, and so relieved when the Professor had found it. He was very much one for sentimental crap. He just... didn't admit it out loud in general. If one asked him, he was still feverish due to his injuries.

Claude chuckled but did not comment. He took something on his side, and then his deft yet _clumsy_ hands took his hair again.

"Hey!"

"Please just..." his voice was small, Claude did not have a _small_ voice. "Just let me have this, okay?"

Felix swallowed back his indignation and huffed. Crossing his arms, that he wasn't allowed to raise anyway, he let him.

"You better not fuck it up."

"I'm good with hair, you're just too sensitive."

"Excuse me?!"

There was coughing. Someone at the entrance of the tent. Leonie's red-haired head looked inside for a second. She smiled when she saw Felix awake and he nodded at her, glad to see she was okay. Last time he had seen her, she had been limping, right in the middle of Imperial lines...

"Hey, mister leader, Felix, you two okay?"

"Just dandy, Leonie," Claude smiled as he finished tying up a messy braid, "I suppose the Faerghus delegation has learnt of my whereabouts?"

"They have," she confirmed, "Gilbert is coming this way. I hope you're ready, both of you."

Gilbert. So his father hadn't sent the Boar but hadn’t come himself, probably to keep watching over the army in the meantime. Smart of him. As Claude stood, Felix gripped his arm, not sure what he was going to say, but knowing that he needed to say _something_.

"He's gotten worse," he managed to grit out.

Claude's silence was loud. He knew exactly who Felix was talking about.

"I saw," he said after a while.

"Do you still think you can save him?"

He hated that there was hope in that question. He hated that he was scared of the answer. He hated that he had to ask such a burdensome thing to his friend. And yet he hadn't been able to stop himself.

"Felix," he hated how small Claude's voice was and how so much of his confidence had seemed to crumble in the last years, or was it just that he had stopped pretending to have more than he did? "It's always been a matter of trying my best. Never of being sure to succeed."

Felix nodded, feeling, strangely, more reassured by that non-answer than he would have been by assured words of certainty.

"Okay..." he said simply. And then he forced his resolve to harden and stared at his friend's neck. "Whatever they say, right now, don't let them convince you to follow Dimitri for anything."

"Not that I would have," Claude said, blinking, "but why?"

"He's obsessed with taking revenge for the Tragedy of Duscur, and he's somehow convinced that Edelgard is responsible. You've seen how rashly he jumped into the battlefield, he will lead us all to our death if we let him. It's miracle he didn't already do so a few times."

There was a silence. A deep, sad silence. Claude stood up, but his hand rested on Felix's shoulder.

"And yet," he said with quiet anguish, "it's saving me that _you_ almost died."

There was no time for Felix to process the sick feeling in his stomach before the tent opened again and a man entered. Grey-streaked red hair, somber blue eyes, walking with his usual grave poise. His eyes fell on Claude and he bowed. Then, they fell on Felix and there was clear relief in the way his shoulders relaxed.

"Duke von Riegan," Gilbert said, "well met."

"Well met indeed," Claude answered while Felix stood up wobblingly. The young man's arm found Felix's back and held him up, making him wonder whether to snap at him that he could stand, or accept the help begrudgingly. "I hear that you are here to negotiate."

"I am indeed." He turned to Felix. "It is also a relief to see you safe, we are going to need you more than ever, Duke Fraldarius."

Felix almost answered, something snapping probably. But then he froze, his mind registering what he had just heard. There was a buzzing in his ears. Annette's father looked grave, as he always did. But surely he had heard wrong. He had a retort, aggressive, maybe a little mean, on his tongue. He had one, but it wouldn't come out. Because why would Gilbert call him...

His ears were buzzing.

No.

Surely he was mistaken.

Claude's smile had all but disappeared. His hand, on the small of Felix's back, got firmer. Stronger. As if preparing itself in case Felix fell over. But he wasn't going to fall over. There was no way...

"That's a bad joke," he said drily.

Except that didn't sound like a joke. Gilbert bowed. His voice was solemn, but also full of grief.

"Forgive me. I thought someone had given you these dire news."

Felix couldn't answer. That was a lie. A joke, poor in taste. His head was buzzing. That wasn't true. His old man was…

"Who would have," Claude said slowly, "no one in this camp heard anything from the Kingdom before the two of you came here."

Why was Claude playing this game? This was a lie. It was a lie, a joke, there was no way his father could... Because he was… And then...

"Where is the Boar?" he choked.

Briefly, Gilbert's stare turned chastising, before it was morphed with pity. Why pity. He didn't need pity, he didn't...

"His Majesty is fine. Lord Fraldarius, your father, gave his life to protect him from an assassin that had infiltrated our ranks."

There was no "I'm sorry for your loss", no "my condolences" or other platitudes that would have felt insincere anyway. Felix took a step back. He met Claude's hand.

Gilbert wasn't looking at him, focusing on the ground as if he were mourning, and for once, Felix didn't avert his eyes either. He was barely seeing the man in front of him. Claude's hand was a ghost against his skin, not enough to drag him back to the present.

All he could think of was a scene he had tried to forget about, when he was fourteen.

When they had brought Glenn's armor back. He remembered stomping away, angry tears fighting to be freed, pain tearing his chest in half. And then, a few hours later, his father had come to him with tea. He sat down. And once the silence had stretched for too long, he had tried. He had talked a bit, Felix couldn't remember what he had said. He didn't even remember what had been said exactly that had suddenly made him jump on his feet and slap his father's hand away, heavily, more with the intention to hurt than to stop him from touching him. And then he had left the room, with insults spewing out of his mouth, left his father behind and never looked back.

That scene played in his mind, again and again. Him striking his father and then leaving, with no apology ever uttered. He didn't know why it was this scene that kept replaying.

"Felix," Claude's voice asked in his ear, thick with worry.

Another voice joined it, Felix’s own imagination mocking him.

" _Felix,_ " Gilbert's voice was saying in his mind, " _don't mourn. Be proud. Your father died like a true knight._ "

It was Claude's voice that dragged him back to the world, after a second. Louder than it needed to be, but firm. Felix barely heard what he was talking about. Everything came through a veil. He was still standing, he noted distantly, but he wasn’t sure how.

He saw Leonie's face again, peeking inside the tent as her leader raised his voice. She looked worried, orange eyes staring at Gilbert, then Claude, and then Felix, likely realizing that no one was angry, and becoming as such much more worried.

"Very well, then," Felix heard Gilbert's voice saying, "you are right that this is no place for such a meeting. Our armies are both tired and in mourning. Some time to get our bearings would do us good."

"I doubt the Empire will attack us again so soon after such losses," Claude reaffirmed and his hand was warm, warm, or was it Felix who was made of ice, now? "if you come back to Garreg Mach with us, it should ensure relative safety at best."

"Nerves are frayed after the battle, but there are probably better locations, more neutral ones, than your army base, aren't there?"

"Gilbert. I owe both Dimitri and Felix my life." He was deathly serious, Felix noted as much as he could hang on to the present. "no harm will come to you from our army. No matter what the end of the meeting brings, you have my word that even in case of disagreement, we will simply let you leave the grounds unscathed."

"The words of lords are a serious matter in Faerghus," Gilbert said severely.

"I know. And I am one to keep my promises."

They stared at each other. Felix couldn't feel his legs, as if he were floating. Gilbert nodded, finally.

"Very well. I shall return them." He threw a small glance at Felix. "We will burn the bodies tonight, will you come with us?"

Felix wasn't sure he could move. He didn't feel all there. The only thing that felt real was the hand on his back, holding him up.

And yet, almost as if his body was not his own, he just nodded and followed without a word, only barely looking at his friend. He heard footsteps, though, and knew Claude was following them outside. Leonie was at their side in a second, still looking worried out of her mind.

"Leonie will go with you," he heard Claude's voice, "after all you've left your squire here, Sir Gilbert. It’s only fair."

"A squire, as much as I care for mine," Gilbert said gravely, "isn't a war commander like Miss Pinelli."

"Leonie," Claude said as if he hadn't heard him, "you stay with Felix, you hear me?"

"Sure, chief," the young woman said.

Felix searched for anger, no, for frustration at being coddled like that. It refused to come to him. Why wouldn't it come to him?

"I..." he started.

"You are not staying alone right now," his friend interrupted him, "if I could I'd send the whole class with her. Gods, they're going to kill me when they’ll learn that they can't see you right now."

"I will see them at- Garreg Mach," it almost didn't feel like his voice. But maybe worse was how he had almost called the place ‘home’.

Claude smiled, a very small and sad thing. And then, without caring for decorum, he walked to him and embraced him. In public. Felix blinked. He felt himself return it more than doing it consciously. It wasn't just an embrace, though. His fingers were gripping at Claude's clothes, like a lifeline. He didn't want to let go. It felt like reality would come crashing down the moment he did.

"You have a lot of people who care about you, Felix.” Claude hummed against his hair. “Please never forget that."

Okay, he thought, closing his eyes, okay. He would try. He would try.

"Do you have any messages to pass on?" Leonie asked them, breaking the moment as delicately as possible.

"Yes, in fact," Claude said as Felix painfully disentangled himself from the embrace, "but… I think it can wait."

"What is it."

His green eyes were shining. Behind the sadness and the grief, there was a sparkle there. Resolve. Certainty. So these five years hadn't taken everything. Good.

"Don’t worry about it. The Supreme King promised me answers, but I’ll ask for them myself."

He felt numb the whole way down Gronder, as he saw people piling up bodies. Alliance men and women were dragging their own dead away, faces somber and forlorn, as the gigantic pyres were being raised behind them. Every soldier in the Alliance had a choice when it came to what would happen to their bodies. If a body was identified, it would get the rites their owner had asked for. Maybe there'd be a few pyres on its side, tomorrow morning.

But tonight that kind of grieving ceremony was reserved to Faerghus's dead.

He didn't know if the world was silent when he arrived or if he was just deaf to all but the quiet hums of the wind, like some new version of the Boar, except haunted by silence instead of voices. He didn't look at those who avoided his eyes when he came near, didn't know if they felt sorry for his loss or ashamed at how one of theirs had to be saved by people they probably now saw as their enemies.

He heard a small gasp somewhere on the right and suddenly, there was a body throwing itself at him. He almost raised his hand, ready to fight. Almost. Before he could, two arms caught him and his nose fell into blonde hair.

"You're fine."

Ingrid. He blinked and patted her shoulder, unsure what to answer. Was he? Fine? She held him tightly, shivering, her trembling hold felt strange. Ingrid had never been one for public displays of affection, just like him. He had worried her, he thought numbly, obviously...

A few seconds later, Ingrid caught sight of Leonie and recoiled, face frowning.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Hey lady Galatea," Leonie answered, more serious than she usually was, "doctor's orders. We had to patch him up quite a bit, so I'm here to make sure everything's fine until tomorrow."

"We have our own doctors," Ingrid said, arms locked tighter around him and breathing was starting to be difficult, he felt suffocated.

"Who I'm sure must be incredibly busy like ours," Leonie answered firmly, "plus one of your soldiers stayed in our camp too, so it's only fair."

Ingrid relented, but Felix still felt suffocated.

"Ingrid," he tried to warn.

His voice sounded like a croak. Ingrid jumped and let him go, nodding and looking embarrassed. Her eyes were wet and she exhaled in relief before smothering a sob in her fist. Part of him wondered if he should try to comfort her. He didn’t know how to do that...

"My apologies," she mumbled after a second. "Sylvain is with Dimitri, if you want."

A bit of relief (so they were both alive at least), and then resignation. Of course he was. He guessed leaving the Boar alone was still something no one was comfortable with.

Who had his father died saving, really? What was left of the prince? Why was it worth it?

Why had all of his family died to save a walking ghost only he could see, and why was he the one who had to watch that disaster, slowly crashing before his eyes, without him being able to do anything about it?

Why was he the only one left?

His legs felt weak, but he simply nodded and walked. He didn't want to see Dimitri, right now. He didn't even want to see Sylvain to be honest. The one he wanted to see was dead too, but he could bet that his ghost didn't walk anymore. Leonie followed him, and Ingrid followed Leonie.

"I’m not sure where Judai is, right now, but Annette and Mercedes are working in the infirmary," the blonde girl said softly, "do you want to see them?"

Later. It could wait. They were healing, saving. He could see them later, when lives wouldn't be at stake. His eyes were searching around, as if there was any chance the one he was looking for would be standing.

"Where is he?" he mumbled.

Ingrid stiffened behind him.

"Dimitri?" she asked cautiously.

Why did everything always have to come back to Dimitri.

"The old man," he croaked, "where is he?"

Ingrid opened her mouth, eyes stricken. Slowly, her eyes turned towards the pyres. Nothing was burning yet.

He started moving. Two pairs of feet followed him dutifully. He was too empty to feel anything about that.

Caspar was moving bodies on top of the pyres when they arrived. He wasn't alone, many soldiers were helping along, some belonging to the Kingdom, some Caspar's men from Bergliez. Felix stood here for a second, taking in the long, long line of pyres that were raised on the outskirts of the battlefield. His mouth felt dry. He remembered seeing the ground covered in bodies, yet somehow, this long line made it look as if they were even more numerous.

Caspar jumped down when he noticed them. He gave Felix an awkward smile.

"Hey, man. Glad to see you alive."

No hugs, no extremely sad face. Just an awkward hello and happiness at him being alive. In any other occasion, Felix might have snarked that this was his favourite 'hello' since he'd arrived there. Instead he just nodded, again, not trusting his voice.

"You've been busy," Leonie said behind him, "that's a lot of them."

"Yeah," Caspar sighed, "we've been trying to prepare some for the Empire's troops too. Most of them are only fighting for the place they were born in. We don't all have the option to desert like I did."

"Caspar," Ingrid interrupted softly, "on which pyre is..."

Caspar took a quick look at Felix and nodded.

"Follow me."

Rodrigue Fraldarius hadn't been laid yet on his pyre. He was wrapped in a long blue cape, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed and face smiling.

Why was he smiling?

Why was the damn man smiling as he died, leaving his son, his fiancee and his liege behind? Was life so hard for him since Glenn’s death? Or was it the happiness of dying 'like a true knight' that made him so glad?

Why was he smiling?

The cape was covering most of his body and Felix didn't feel the strength to crouch or kneel to see where, exactly, his father had been hit, what was the wound that had killed him. He could only stare at this face, peaceful and smiling as if nothing was wrong.

Anger was familiar, almost comforting, so why, why couldn't he hold onto it?

His whole body felt hollow, numb. He heard Ingrid whisper to Leonie, Leonie answering, her voice so much softer than it usually was. Then Ingrid inhaled and came closer. She seemed to hesitate before simply pressing on his shoulder before leaving, without a word. Silence or not, he could feel her concerned glance as she tried to... what? Leave him alone with his grief? How self-centered of him, he thought without heat, she probably just had a lot to do.

Leonie stayed behind him, without a word.

As he stared at his father's smile, as if it held the answer to all of the universe's mysteries, he was grateful for her silence.

As night came, the pyres finished being built, and the remaining soldiers came closer for the final goodbyes. Felix watched Caspar and one of his men raise his father up the pyre, still silent. Even up there, the smile on the dead man's face refused to disappear. It was absurd how it still didn't seem real. A small part of him, childish, was whispering that he would have to stand up soon, that he would have to get down from here, because he was going to burn.

A dead body was going to burn among others, he scolded himself, as it was supposed to. And the sword of Moralta would end up in the grave marked at his name, back in Fraldarius territory, right next to his son's armor. He knew it. Deeply, he knew it. Yet he felt nothing. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know why he was still expecting him to stand up.

"Felix."

Sylvain's voice felt like waking up.

Suddenly, the wind felt cold. He turned. The red-haired man was holding a torch, brown eyes burning golden. Behind him, a hulking form. Felix looked at Dimitri for a second, noticing the absence of his usual cape. He wondered if it was the one they had wrapped his father in…

Feeling sick all of a sudden, he turned away from the Boar and focused his stare on Sylvain.

"His highness should do it," a voice hissed, near him.

Everyone ignored it. With barely any hesitation, Sylvain gave him the torch. Felix took it numbly, wondering for a second what he wanted him to do with it.

Oh.

"Tell me if you can't." Sylvain said softly.

Some probably wished he couldn't. _His highness should do it._ Because as the previous leader of their armies, no one other than the dead Duke Fraldarius mattered on that pyre. No one mattered more, among all of these dead people. And ‘His Highness’ was who he had given his life to. He was who the man was probably thinking of as he died. He was who mattered most to him.

Felix had been third-place in a family of two for years. Fourth place, he'd even say during bad days. Strangely, it didn't sting anymore. Nothing did. Everything was so numb.

Maybe he should indeed have given the torch to the Boar.

He walked slowly towards the pyre. Other people were doing the same near the other ones. He waited for a few seconds. Mercedes' voice, so close yet so far, was reciting prayers he barely heard.

When she bowed, he briefly closed his eyes.

Then he set fire to the wood.

The fire burnt, taking all with it. He watched even when the flames burnt too high, almost as if, were he to stop watching, his father would stand up the moment he had turned away.

Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius never stood up.

And Felix stayed there until morning, when the last embers fell to the ground, long after the chanting of soldiers and priests stopped.

At his side, neither Sylvain nor Leonie had moved.

_They’ve burnt to ashes_

_Faded to grey_

_Returned to the earth_

_Yes it's meant to be_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thing that has always hit me was how, for everyone I know, parents seem invincible. It doesn't matter the relationship you have with them, it doesn't even matter how old you are, them simply disappearing doesn't seem like a possibility. Maybe that is why it's refusing to hit Felix, right now, even though he _knows_ his father is dead. Especially for him, who is so used to swallowing back every emotion that isn't anger, it seemed so much more natural for it to take time to explode. But there will be an explosion. There will. About many things. The boy has needed to break for a while, now, and if canon won't push him down that flight of stairs, then I will. And I'll prepare a soft landing pad because that's what hurt/comfort is all about.  
> Still speaking about Felix and his father, I remember well the moment I first had that advice box confession about him striking his father and wishing he could go back and apologize. It was my fifth run and I honestly thought I had exhausted all the pain that boy could make me feel. Well he proved me wrong...  
> As a final less depressing note, the dark green vest is me picking fun at my eyesight, I sincerely thought Felix's coat was green for almost a year before I tried to draw him for the first time, and only when I copied the colour from one of my screenshots did I realize it was actually blue. I felt blind for a bit x) (you can also choose to see it as a representation of his torn loyalty between the Blue Lions and the Golden Deer but I sincerely wasn't thinking about that when I wrote it, it just came to me as I was proofreading it xDD)  
> That being said, next chapter will be a flashback chapter. I figured after the last three chapters, we needed a bit of light-heartedness. We'll be back into the misery zone soon enough. I take bets on the PoV character! The winner will get a virtual cookie.  
> BTW, I have a bet going with a friend right now and if I win, then there should be a lot of chapters this month!


	26. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude has a lot on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was both incredibly fun and incredibly hard to write because I decided to write Claude... basically how I think. And by that I mean that I very probably have some form of ADHD and that my brain is always thinking three things at the same time and ricocheting. So the first draft was unreadable for anyone that wasn't me because of the jumping around in the brain's thoughts (even the part about thoughts slowly turning into a dream is very me x) ). Then I tried to calm it down and I felt it made the point of view lose all of its personality. I've tried to find a middle ground and I hope I succeeded! However, despite how contradictory it might sound, Claude is now officially the character whose PoV I have the hardest time writing, taking Dimitri's crown xD  
> It still was incredibly fun, between trying to really write with words the way my brain works and poking at his insecurities and traumas, of course. I said Light-hearted chapter, that means that my PoV character doesn't spend half the chapter miserable, terrified and drowning in traumas x) Only one fifth of it. But still, it's Claude. Anyone who pays just a bit of attention to his dialogue can realize that just because he's much better at dealing with his traumas than Dimitri or, well, most of the cast, doesn't mean that he's not completely traumatized and made paranoid because of the way his life has been. So I'm going to poke at that. And at the way he has a hard time accepting that people could actually care for him and respect him, because that's another key point of his character, to the point that he unites the army around Byleth because he doesn't think one second he has the necessary pull to unite people around him in VW, and I'm always sad that except for a few cute moments where the GD remind him that they'd follow him anywhere, it's never really addressed in game. Let my insecure baby know how wonderful he is, please!  
> Also I wanted to poke at his crest. Because I've always been interested in exploring how the ones whose crest heals them through harming others would feel about it :3

**Chapter 25**

_Standing on the edge, am I better off dead?_

_How could I forget that I’m better than this?_

_I’ve come too far to fade tonight_

_Fight, or be taken out alive_

**25th day of the Guardian Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

**Claude**

This one was a gold mine. A baby wyverns' nest. A bed of saffron. Oh, it had been well hidden, yes, but it was completely worth the search. Now if only the page he was reading could have been just a little less smudged...

Claude leaned in, getting the lantern closer, but not close enough to set fire to the paper. Whoever had written that diary must have thrown it in water for a while. Not only was the writing faded and smudged, but the paper was all brittle and wavy, bloated in a way. He could almost picture the way it had fallen in an inconveniently placed basin or so, and the scream of horror of its writer...

There was a bit of guilt inside his stomach, after all, he was supposed to look for info about who Solon and Monica could be, he owed Teach that much but...

But this thing was talking about Gods. Gods plural! Mostly about one, though. The Supreme King, God of Darkness. But not just ‘Darkness’, it seemed it was a certain kind? Some days the author (a man who had signed his entries by J.C.C, not that it helped him much) talked about creation, others it talked about gentleness. Whatever the kind of Darkness, it didn't seem like a bad force here, neutral at best, mostly positive. It was strange, Darkness wasn't something one usually thought of as positive. Or maybe it was just him, who kept tensing up at every shadow. But he blamed his uprising, he had been conditioned to expect an attack from every place he couldn't see after all...

"Uuuurgh."

Hilda's voice tore him from the paper he was desperately trying to read. She was looking at him with her Annoyed Face. Not the regular annoyed face she made at everything that she didn't want to do, no, the Annoyed Face of when someone did something she _really_ disliked.

"Seriously," she groaned, "you're still doing research? Do you even know how to take a break?"

What did she call his naps if not a break? Oh well, no use wasting time debating about it with her. She was too stubborn for it to be worth it.

"I think you take enough breaks for the both of us," he teased her.

"Don't be stupid. You really need to learn how to relax, sweetie, or you're going to die young."

She was so worried it was adorable. He was a bit moved, he couldn't lie. He also couldn't help but smile, his fingers fidgeting against the paper, hoping to be able to get back to it soon enough.

"According to everyone I'm too easy going. I can't believe you're telling me that."

"You're not fooling anyone," she growled, getting closer with her fists on her hips, "everyone is on edge after what happened last month. We need a break, all of us. You especially. Can you believe I even managed to drag _Felix_ to have a relaxing time, but not you?"

"Ah, right. And he almost died during his relaxation." He was laughing again, genuinely. It was sincerely amusing after all. Okay, maybe he was forcing it a bit, but he was genuinely amused, he could swear it!

"Well how was I supposed to know that Kingdom people are so unused to heat they pass out with just a little bit of steam!"

"I'm pretty sure I remember Lord Rodrigue warning you about that once."

"And I promised I’d get his son out if he fainted, which I did! Oh, whatever. I knew you'd run circles around me to get me to leave you alone."

And he feared she'd figure it out. He didn't call her his best friend for no reason after all. She just... got him. Never letting herself get dragged with his shit and yet indulging him most of the time. They had the minds of schemers, both of them. It was no wonder they got along.

"Which is why," she exclaimed, a glint of challenge in her eyes, "I brought my trump card here!"

Another figure entered the shadowed Abyss Library. Her dark blue hair almost glowing in the torches' light, Teach Eisner took a few steps. Almost shy. She looked... terrible, to be honest. Sad, awkward, he swore he could almost see the tear tracks on her cheeks despite the lack of light. She was a bit hunched over, smaller than the woman, standing tall, he had known until then. Yet, she tried to smile. It was small, very much unnatural, and one of the most heartbreaking things he had ever seen, but she still tried to be encouraging, as she always was in class.

Oh Hilda. Evil woman that she was. Surely, she must have known he couldn't simply... let Teach down. Especially when the woman had just lost her father and probably badly needed whatever Hilda was planning on doing. He groaned and let his head rest against hard wood for a second. Fine. Fine, she had won this round.

"Okay," he said, "I will go with you to the Sauna, since I expect that's where you want to bring me."

"I'm glad we agree!" Hilda chirped happily. "There's nothing like a bit of heat to feel more relaxed!"

"I'm sure Felix disagrees."

"Felix is a wimp when it comes to heat, it's not my fault he fainted. You however? You're not from Faerghus. Stop complaining or I'll think you're scared."

Scared of a bit of heat. He laughed again, wondering how she'd feel about Almyrans summers. Derdriu's weather was pretty mild in comparison after all. And Fodlan's locket was barely warmer, too far from the inlands to really know what it was like.

The Sauna, it turned out, proved that she might handle it just fine. She and Teach seemed to revel in the warm steam, their cheeks rosy and content. He watched them for a while, fondly.

When he closed his eyes, he thought of Almyra. A daydream of sorts, landscapes he knew, towns where he had spent time running in the streets, forests and mountains where he had gotten lost - where he had been pushed from cliffs almost gutted thrown in front of wounded animals tied up for bandits to find.

He didn't even feel mad at the responsible ones. So many lies fed to them, so many prejudices, so much anger at things _different_ , because there was nothing that scared people more than difference did. Claude had lived his whole life not knowing anything else but 'different' so maybe that was why he didn't mind it. But he had thought that surely, other 'different' people must have existed somewhere else. And he had wanted to discover Fodlan so much...

After the initial disappointment, he hadn't been angrier at Fodlan's fear of difference than he had been of Almyra's. They had only tried killing him twice since he had arrived after all, both incredibly clumsy, amateurish in a way, and from what he had learnt, it was mostly a Leicester thing. Almost a way to say hello to new arrivals, it had nothing to do with where he came from. Maybe the lack of attention given to these assassination attempts was also because he hadn't managed to make a reputation for himself yet. People in Almyra knew he was not to be trifled with, knew he had unflinchingly gotten rid of assassins himself since he was twelve. Those who couldn't respect him as a person could at least respect that he was dangerous.

What he had been angry at, though, was their excuse.

Faith.

Those who were born out of Fodlan's borders were impure, unholy, not touched by the Goddess and other wyvern shit. People in Almyra didn't hide behind Faith to despise him, though he wasn't sure it was actually better. But Fodlanese people had a basis, teachings, that explained where their fear came from. They almost couldn't help it.

Fine then.

If it was the only way to have people realize how stupid fear of difference was, then he would change those teachings. Expose them for the errors they were. Prove that he was so much more than an outsider, no matter how much he joked about being one. He would destroy the borders, make them see how similar they all were, that that hatred had no reason to be.

For that, though, there were many steps to be taken. It all started with learning and friendship. Dimitri had been pretty receptive until then, but Edelgard kept turning up his nose at him, as if she thought him beneath her attention. He thought the Golden Deer's victory at the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion would change her mind, she had gladly accepted the feast afterwards after all. But no, she still didn't look at him twice when he tried to have a talk with her. It was a shame, he had learnt a lot about Adrestia's History and would have loved talking about it with her.

He figured it could technically wait until he was officially Leicester's leader, but still, it felt a bit discouraging to be the only one trying to cooperate, in this relationship.

Anyway, while it all started with learning and friendship, it ended with the Archbishop and the Church. If Faith was the reason so many had learnt to fear difference (oh that fear would be there without it, he knew, but if they thought it was the reason, then if the sayings changed, they'd have to reconsider, right?), then he needed to reform that Faith, reform the Church. Not take it down, Gods no, how would he feel if someone came to Almyra and told them to forget about their Gods? That would be ridiculous, arrogant and the best way to get hated by the population. He could even entertain the possibility of Fodlan's Goddess to be real, it was just the way she was represented he disliked.

Nothing about her made sense. She was a merciful mother of all, but she had created a wasteland out of anger. She loved all, but despised foreigners. She created all life in the world but was only worshipped here, in this continent.

But the biggest contradiction was the Archbishop herself. Serene and calm, yet fury danced in her eyes so often, an anger barely contained behind her sophisticated appearance. Despite all those sayings about the Goddess, she had foreigners in her close circle. And yet, she never spoke overtly against those who said such things. Clearly, she disagreed, but kept quiet. Was it for political purposes? Because she wasn't actually allowed the power to change things? Or did she lack the will to?

In any case, while he could appreciate these small gestures, it still wasn't enough. If Claude wanted to change the world, everything ended with Lady Rhea. Either she'd have to take a stand, officially ban such discriminations, or she'd have to step down, let someone else do so. He didn't exactly _dislike_ the woman (didn’t feel much about her in truth), but right now, she was an obstacle. Some of the believers worshipped her as if she were their Goddess made flesh, they failed to see her as a flawed being, a woman with emotions and limitations, clouding her so-called infinite wisdom.

Unless she suddenly changed her way of doing things, his dream becoming true would mean deposing the Archbishop. It wasn't something he would rejoice in doing, no. And he didn't want to do it violently, it was peace he wanted after all, and the hatred of the Followers of Seiros would bring him nothing good either. But that all made it so much more complicated. Worth it, but complicated. Fortunately, fate seemed to be smiling at him. Teach had a way with the Archbishop. If there was someone who could make her change her ways, or maybe even rule the Church in her place without any outcry, it’d be her...

All these thoughts were still swimming in his head when they all left the Sauna. Hilda took one look at him and groaned again.

"You don't look relaxed at all!" She complained, wrinkling her nose.

"My muscles definitely are," he had to laugh, "but seriously Hilda, thanks for trying."

"I don't want to try, I want to _succeed_."

"Okay, my apologies. Then, I'm going to take a nap, right now. Does that work for you?"

"You'd better," his best friend hissed at him.

He found himself surprised to actually agree with her. Yes, he should go take a nap. His head hurt a bit, he might have overdone the whole reading in the dark thing. Plus it wouldn't help him decipher the diary if he was so tired his vision swam as he read. That was also the effect of the sauna, this cooling-down after the heat always made him feel sleepy.

There was a tree, right outside the walls, that he liked. Its shade was just right, it hid him from any passersby's view and was too hidden for anyone to get to him by accident. He felt almost safe there, so it was one of his favourite napping spots. Sure, Petra had surprised him there, once, but she also seemed to favour that place, so it shouldn't actually have come as a surprise. Shamir had seen him once too, but she didn't seem very interested in harming him either, or she wouldn't have killed that spider...

He still took the dagger that never left him, clutching it as he laid down. It seemed so weird that this weapon had been so useful to him, a constant he never let go of. This had been left by the first assassin who had tried to take her shot at him after all. Or at least the first he could remember. What was he, eight? He didn't remember all of it, just her jumping him with a dagger while he sat in the garden. He also remembered stumbling and falling in the flowers, escaping her blade by sheer luck. And then Nader, who hadn't been far, howling with rage, some blood... The dagger had fallen by his side. He couldn't even remember why he had decided to take it.

He believed there had been another around the same time, he had gotten hurt this time, with a poisoned blade. It had been the first time his crest had shone. He… wasn’t sure what he had been doing frantically, almost not controlling himself. Had he been ripping flowers off? Had he actually stabbed the one who had hurt him in his panic? That was more likely, yes, mere flowers wouldn’t have healed him...

The only thing he was sure of was that his mother had taken him aside afterwards, and explained to him the gift he had gotten.

” _The crest of Riegan never gives without taking,_ ” Tiana von Riegan had told him with a firm voice, ” _its power is great and awful at the same time. Those you take the energy to heal from suffer a great deal. Do not believe yourself invincible. Do not use it on people who don’t deserve it._ ”

” _Are you angry at me?_ ” He thought he had been crying, it was hard to be sure.

” _Not at all, Khalid_ ,” she had smirked, ” _you did a great job fighting that guy off. And you survived, that’s all I can ask. Just don’t abuse your crest’s power too much, okay?_ ”

He had been careful ever since. Might have accidentally killed a few trees during poisoning attempts (Petra might be mad at him if he told her that…), only ever used his crest in combat, to make sure he never hurt someone who didn’t deserve to go through the pain of feeling their own lifeforce get sucked out. He was careful, very careful, so careful he wasn’t even sure he had used it on another assassin ever again. He hadn’t needed to. By the time he had gotten a grip on how it worked, he didn’t need anyone finishing his battles for him anymore.

The first assassination attempt he had foiled himself he remembered pretty well. He was twelve. It was at a feast. An old family friend had come to meet them, his eyes looking all proud and kind. Far too kind. The only people who had looked at him like that and meant it were those he had proven himself to. They could be counted on the fingers of one hand. And so he had been on guard.

In the end, it hadn't been him who had tried to poison him that night (poisoning attempts had stopped after a while, but they had been pretty common at first, hadn’t they?). It had been another warrior, who had been making disparaging comments about the Queen all night long, carefully avoiding criticizing _him_ , but clearly not liking his presence anyway. Khalid remembered taking the glass that was given to him, staring at it, then at the warrior, and then given it back to him.

" _Is it not to your liking my Prince?_ "

He was on guard because of that family friend, yes. But he was still on guard.

" _Drink it first._ "

The man had laughed.

" _Why? Do you want to know if it's too bitter?_ "

" _No. I want you to drink it because I think you poisoned it._ "

Around them, conversations had stopped at that moment. Suddenly, the air was tense.

" _Now,_ " the man had laughed, " _that's a grave accusation, my prince._ "

" _It is._ " Khalid had confirmed, letting himself smile, almost softly. " _Which is why if you can prove to me that you didn't, you have my word that you will get reparation._ "

" _I sure hope so._ "

" _Now then,_ " he still held the glass in front of him, waiting for the warrior to take it, " _I think you know how you can prove it._ "

" _Now that is..._ "

" _Hakim._ "

Khalid's father had stood up. His piercing eyes tore through the two of them, but his expression was neutral.

" _Drink it,_ " he had ordered.

The warrior had died, right in the middle of the hall, from his own poisoned cup. Khalid had looked, impassive, hiding how freaked out he was at that grotesque scene. He had heard whispers, then, people saying how of course the Demon Queen had birthed a Demon Prince. It was the day those who wanted him gone had started fearing him. He didn't care for fear. He hated that, it wasn’t what he wanted to be known as, and yet here it was, just because he wanted to live…

Later, he had heard the family friend speaking, telling someone that it was too late, that now everyone would have eyes on the prince, and he had known, his heart sinking, that he had been right.

That friend had sent an assassin three months later. Captured in one of the traps he had set in his bedroom. The assassin confessed to his master’s identity, and the man had been executed, publicly. The King himself had done the honours, bringing his sword back on the neck of the one who had threatened his son. Then the head had rolled on the ground, at Khalid's feet and it had hissed at him and roared, slowly, gruesomely turning into a gigantic beast. Scales and teeth and inhuman and screaming, screaming in the voice that belonged to an old classmate:

_**"YOU KILLED ME! YOU KILLED ME!"** _

Khalid woke up screaming. Someone was holding him down and he needed to shove them off, his dagger, where was his...

"Claude!"

It was a kind, young voice. A voice that he recognized, and that was that, only, that stayed his hand right before he reached for his weapon.

He blinked. Walls. Trees. The green grass. Slowly, he felt his composure come back to him. He knew that place. He was safe here. Garreg Mach. No assassins. He was safe, he was safe, he was safe...

The hands holding him let go. Purple eyes found his face, worried. Petra. It was just Petra.

"You were nightmaring," she said bluntly.

"Ugh," he groaned, wiping his brow, "of course I was... Thanks for waking me, Petra."

"It is not a problem. Are you wanting to talk about it?"

She was always so sweet, he thought with a smile, feeling his body shivering still despite everything. The death of Captain Jeralt had moved the monastery to tears. So much, in fact, that the bodies of the students had almost been forgotten by some. None of them had been Claude's close friends, the center of his little world. But two had still been Golden Deer students. Two Golden Deers, two Black Eagles, two Blue Lions... All had gone missing no sooner than the mere morning of the day tragedy had struck.

They had been turned into monsters and Claude had killed one, himself. One of his own classmates. He felt ill just thinking about it. Petra's hands hovered above his shoulders, ready to settle him again if necessary. He sure hoped it wouldn't be.

"Don't worry," he said with a smile, "just... still disturbed about what happened last month. It was to be expected."

She must have been in the tree again, he thought absent-mindedly.

"Ah," she said, "I have luck, I have not seen the classmates that were changed."

Luck, yeah, she definitely could call it that. That sure was lucky. He hadn't seen Hilda looking that sick since their first battle together, when she had gone puking and crying on the side, as if ashamed of her horror and feelings... Ignatz, in fact, had gone vomiting after the battle, Raphael accompanying him for a bit of comfort despite looking shaken himself. Neither of them had been able to witness Jeralt's death...

Jeralt. Whose diary he had been reading. And it was fascinating, but disturbing, raising more questions than it answered, really. What had been done to Teach, exactly? Was that why she had no emotions when he met her? He had wondered about giving said diary to Seteth, on the spur of the moment, he wasn’t sure why. The man was strict and severe, but he almost felt like he was the only one who could have confronted Rhea about what was revealed there...

"We are the one who killed them," he said with a weak shrug that he knew was still trembling, mind dragged back to the horror of that day. It wasn't a vulnerability he minded showing. He wasn't that kind of monster, thank you very much, of course killing people who had shared his classroom, his dining table, felt repulsive to him. Petra obviously understood it. She patted his back.

"You have saved your life," she reminded him, "that is what you must do."

Then she smiled, a forced expression, but a sweet one anyway.

"By the path, have you been wanting to listen more about Brigid?" she asked.

It didn't have anything to do with their conversation, but Claude could recognize an attempt at a distraction when he saw one.

"I'll admit that I'm very curious," he smiled, "I don't know much about it. You mentioned tree spirits last time, what else can you tell me?"

Her eyes shone, like everytime she could talk about her birth country. He wondered if she missed it as much as he missed Almyra. With how she launched into an explanation about the land and plants and how they were used by shamans, he figured she did. Maybe even more than he did.

How he hoped he could one day talk about Almyra like that with someone... Sure, Felix and Yuri knew, but still he was too careful to speak much of it. They couldn't be overheard...

They had been talking for almost an hour, jumping subjects at a pace Claude's brain seemed to enjoy, when they were found. It was Ingrid. The blonde knight-in-training stared at them, clearly uncomfortable. She and Claude still couldn't get along, but she and Petra had _something_ , so he wasn't exactly surprised. Well, no reason to antagonize her more than necessary, right? He already felt much lighter after all. So he smiled at Petra.

"Thank you so much, Petra. I feel much better."

"Do you have certainty?" she insisted.

"I'm sure," he winked at her, "plus Ingrid is here for you I think."

The princess' smile when she noticed her blond girlfriend was blinding. She stood up and ran to her. They exchanged a few words, Ingrid threw a suspicious glance à Claude, and then firmly linked her hand with Petra’s. They were still holding pinkies when they left.

They were adorable, he thought with a smile. But it was kind of hilarious how he kept unwillingly antagonizing Ingrid. His attitude had started it, but then she had seen him tease Dimitri and found it disrespectful, then there had been Felix transferring to the Deers (which really wasn't his fault, though he wouldn't deny how happy he was it had happened, the swordsman was... well, he wasn’t sure he had a word for it), a few badly chosen words on his part (how was he supposed to know smiling was a sore subject for her?), and more recently, him apparently leaving the training grounds not looking tired enough? That one had sounded as if she were desperately trying to find something wrong with him. It was starting to get ridiculous but he would be lying if he didn't admit he kind of loved it. Bickering could be fun, who would have guessed? She seemed to lose some of her more uptight habits when she was busy arguing at him. It probably did her a lot of good.

He dusted himself off and stood up. His dagger had been hidden under his body for the whole conversation, so he bent down to retrieve it. In his pocket, where he intended to put it, there was already a thick journal. Jeralt's journal...

Slowly, as he made his way back to Garreg Mach, he gave up, temporarily, on his research from the morning. He could probably borrow J.C.C’s book to look at it another time. The Supreme King would have to wait, the journal was telling him. He felt guilty now! Chasing after his wishes when he should have been focusing on helping Teach? No, no, Monica and Solon were the priority. Remire deserved to never happen again. Teach deserved her revenge.

Revenge...

He had never been one for revenge. It was funny, in a way, but maybe that was having everyone shit on him for so long that made him feel like it was a waste of time. Here though? It felt unfair, so unfair. For all of her life until she had come here, she only ever had her father. To lose him so brutally and senselessly? Yeah, she deserved to stab Monica in the heart. And he'd be happy to watch. Even without that, it was necessary to get to the heart of her secrets first, so maybe that was another of his reasons to be on board with that plan…

He remembered Remire, how Solon had mentioned what he had done to the villagers to be an experiment. And then, one month later, here were humans, turned into monsters and forced to attack them, under Monica’s watch, right in the Church’s territory, Monica who had then been saved by a strange man. It was hard to think these two things weren’t linked. These people wanted to destroy the Church more than anything, he had surmised. That had been enough to make him wonder if exposing the Church’s secrets, as he had wanted to, was actually a good thing. If such monsters wanted to destroy it that badly, that meant that for some reason, it stood between them and even worse operations.

Whatever these people would do, he dearly hoped he and his people would be able to stop them.

Felix and Yuri went up to the dorms with him after dinner. He let out a small laugh.

"Can't trust me to go to my room by myself?" he joked.

"We're going to mine," Felix growled at him, "yours is a mess."

"I'm flattered, guys," he couldn't help himself, "I really am. Two of the prettiest men in the world? Really?"

Felix hit him on the head while Yuri laughed, winking at him.

"Oh Claude, I honestly wouldn't mind. But no, that's not why we're here."

He filed the 'honestly wouldn't mind' for later. Who knew what tomorrow would bring after all?

"I am going to kill you both," Felix grumbled as he opened the door.

Truth being said, he could talk about Claude's mess of a room. While his kind of mess was intentional, made to keep intruders at bay, Felix's room just had its floor clean. Books were everywhere on the shelves too, but so dusty and disorganized it felt half hearted. Other than that, the room was so empty it was almost disturbing. It almost looked military in a way, like a soldier's tent. Ready to leave anytime and leave everything behind. Claude wondered if he had even brought the books here or if they had already been there, left by a previous occupant, never disturbed.

There was such loneliness in that room Claude was reminded once again what a mess his good friend was. He clearly didn't bring many people here. Well, he thought with bitter humour, the one person he clearly wished to bring here was just two doors away and brought far too many people in his own room, after all...

Yuri didn't give a second glance to the empty place, sitting on the bed without any hesitation.

"Good," he crooned, "so now that we're here, Claude, this is an intervention."

Yeah, he had kind of figured that out. Oh, was that a Faerghus folk tales book on the shelf? He needed to ask Felix if he could borrow it.

"Sure," he said, trying to read the spine, "let me guess, Hilda put you to it?"

"She didn't need to. Friend, everyone and their mother can see you're overworking yourself."

His mother probably did too despite being in another country, it had been a flaw of his since forever. He was pretty happy no one had tried her way of making him stop yet, which was tying him up to force him to stay down. If she kept him with the wyverns it was alright and the company was good, but in the gardens, he hated it, too many bugs.

"There aren't many bugs in this season," he mumbled out loud, "so that's good."

"What?" Felix said, confused.

"Nothing. Anyway, does either of you know that Hilda already _intervened_ today?"

"And failed, according to her," Yuri sounded far too happy about that, something told Claude there had been a bet going on, "so it's our turn."

"And what's the plan? Barricading me inside Felix's room until I rest?"

"That was his, yes," Yuri laughed.

"Excuse you?!" Felix exclaimed, offended.

"Please, you didn't have to say it out loud for me to understand it."

"That's a stupid plan!"

"Which is why you didn't say anything, I know."

"By the way," Claude added before Felix could argue back, "can I mention how ironic and hypocritical it is of you to try to make me stop working?"

"Shut up," Felix glared at him, "I've been forced to relax for days, now, your turn to suffer through it."

"Only the two of you would think of relaxing as torture," Yuri mused, looking like he was having the time of his life, "I have a few half-baked plans, to be honest, but I mostly I have suggestions for you, friend. Activities to make you busy that should feel relaxing."

"Yuri, your ideas of a good time are usually as follow: Sex, illegal bets, or risking your life."

"And I'm pretty sure the first one would help you a lot right now, but that's not in the cards, unfortunately. Anyway, I have brought a little something that could help us!"

With an elegant flip of the cape that _had_ to have been rehearsed (and now Claude was mentally laughing at that image of his beautiful friend twirling in front of a mirror), Yuri raised a thick book.

"What is that?" Claude asked, eyes immediately drawn to the new object. Books were good, he loved books, that already sounded like a pretty good idea.

"It's a combination of reports," Yuri said with a savage smirk, "reports from generals fighting the Almyran army. Defeats, usually."

Oh!

"They're pretty detailed, but also pretty nonsensical at times. Basically, we're going to read them to you, and you're going to correct all of these and tell us everything that's false."

Oh the bastard. Challenging his love for his country of birth, how hard he had studied battles, _and_ his constant need to correct things that sounded wrong. No way he could resist.

"Yuri, my friend, I love and hate you. This is going to make me so angry and I'm going to love destroying all the inaccuracies."

"Wait," Felix asked with a raised eyebrow, "you can get angry? I'll believe it when I see it."

Oh dear Felix, not everyone wore their anger on their sleeve, he thought with fondness.

The reports were ridiculous. He mostly didn't have it in him to get angry. Whoever had written them was way out of their depths, either seeing the impossible or misinterpreting it. Another way of seeing it was them trying to explain reasons behind their losses, and that was definitely how Claude decided to take it.

"These people I swear," Yuri said as Claude tried to breathe. He was laughing so hard, almost collapsing on the ground, his stomach hurting. "Would writing the words 'we underestimated the enemy' kill them?"

"Elephants?" Felix said, confused, as he tried to read the next page. "With six tusks? What? That's not possible."

"We don't use elephants in battle," Claude wheezed, "at least not on that side of the map. They're mostly used during clan wars, but at the Locket? Bad plan, the mountain-type battlefield is too uneven to allow this type of maneuvers and they'd just get killed easily. They're too precious for that."

"Do your elephants have six tusks??"

"No they don't." He exploded in laughter again.

"Well it's still more believable than the one who affirmed that some of your soldiers turned into wyverns," Yuri shrugged, turning the page, "oh damn. That one is original. Apparently the Almyran army was disguised as tigers?"

"Oh! We actually did do that! The chariots and horses had been painted over to look like tigers. With the fog, the effect of surprise worked perfectly at the time. Unfortunately, that was a one time thing. Can't keep the same tactics all the time."

"There isn't much mention of horses in any of these," Yuri noted, "nor infantrymen. It's all wyverns and elephants and other rare and big beasts. Feels like they're trying to make you look impressive, almost."

"Indeed," Claude snorted, "I should bring those to Nader, he would have stories to tell for days."

"Destroying the reports like you do?"

"Are you kidding? After a battle, we love having a big feast where we eat and drink a lot and tell stories. The bigger, more impressive the story, the better. We are _very_ prone to exaggeration during these times. No, Nader would read these reports as actual facts and everyone would cheer. Can you believe our opponents are even better at building us up than we are?"

Damn, his lungs were about to explode. It was all so ridiculous, but so funny, almost like hearing Nader yell these stories at the table, as he had done all his childhood. He hoped Nader was alright, he was one of the only ones he trusted after all. _Boy_ or _Kiddo_ he called him instead of _My Prince_ or _Prince Khalid_ and Claude couldn't even be mad at that, the man had almost been a second father to him.

"You seem to like him," Felix said, turning the page and frowning at whatever nonsensical thing was written on it, "by Seiros Yuri, where did you find that thing?"

"I have my ways, Most Beautiful, but yeah, I do agree with him. Of what little you've told us of Almyra, this Nader is one of the only constantly positive things you've mentioned."

"Is he, really?" Claude hummed, feeling his euphoria from before comfortably fall down, like a nice blanket. "Well it makes sense. There aren't many people there I trust to follow me out of love or loyalty. But him? Without any doubt."

"Oh, so he's a smart one," Yuri nodded, "good to know."

"You make it sound like those who oppose me will mysteriously disappear," Claude laughed.

"They might," Yuri smirked.

"They will," Felix added, deadpan.

It was obvious what they were suggesting, even if just as a joke and Claude laughed again, letting himself fantasize about it for a moment.

"Do not tempt me. Well, not like I'd trust them if they chose to bend the knee. That's one thing they have in common with the Alliance. They smile and pledge allegiance when they're forced to, but inside they are already planning how to overthrow you."

"That's shitty," Felix grumbled as he closed the book, "I hate the blind loyalty of Faerghus but at least it's better than all of that fakeness."

But there were fake people in Faerghus too, Claude thought with a sad smile. On the Western front, mostly, people who didn’t have any of the ‘Noblesse Oblige’ that pertained to Eastern nobles. It was obvious some nobles from the Kingdom had played a role in the King’s assassination, but Claude had no doubt that they had overwhelmingly been part of those people. The Fraldarius, Gautier, Galatea and Charon families were far too loyal for that...

"Does that mean you haven't had someone sincerely bend the knee to you?" Yuri asked with a nonchalant curiosity. "I mean, obviously there must have been some who did so, since you're the future leader of Leicester, but is there really not even one you can trust?"

Ouch, that one stung a bit and it wasn’t even intentional.

"You see that," Claude smiled despite himself, "that’s one of the ways someone can tell you were born in Faerghus."

Yuri frowned, looking slightly dismayed.

"Wait..." he said slowly. "Are you saying that... no one ever bent the knee to you? Or even pretended to?"

"Almyra only bends the knee to those who proved themselves," Claude shrugged, "and obviously, me not being a full-blooded Almyran makes it much harder to get recognition. As for Leicester? Either it's my grandfather they're loyal to, or other council nobles. No one is going to bend the knee to an upstart bastard who appeared out of nowhere. In that kind of atmosphere, it's hard to find someone you can trust without conflicts of loyalty."

Like Hilda. Damn, he wished he could ask for Hilda's eternal loyalty. But she was a Goneril. Her loyalty would always be to her brother. He'd have to be satisfied with that and her friendship, Holst was a good guy after all...

"Well that's ridiculous."

Yuri's voice was so dumbfounded Claude felt almost amused.

"It's just different," he smiled.

"Not just different," Felix said bluntly, "that's stupid. Surely there must have been _someone_ there who realized you were worth following?"

Faerghans, Faerghans. It was adorable. And touching, really, Claude wouldn't admit that he felt almost misty-eyed at their support.

"Not as far as my grandfather or my father rule," he shrugged.

"The Boar had to live through hours of getting all nobles in Faerghus, in order or importance, kneeling in front of him and pledging loyalty in an empty gesture when he was ten, with his father still kicking, and you got _nothing_?" He sounded downright offended, and Claude wasn’t exactly sure on whose behalf, which only made it funnier.

"Well that can't stand," Yuri said dramatically, standing up, "I am doing it, right now!"

"Yuri, you don't need to..."

With a theatrical gesture, the young man bowed and knelt.

"So how should we do that, hmm? Should I go I, Yuri Leclair of house Rowe, solemnly pledge my allegiance to you, Claude von Riegan, heir of Leicester, Prince Khalid of Almyra! My blade is now yours and so is my life and whatever my status in that wretched house can bring you, to do as you please. Hmm, the words sound right, but I’m not sure I should still count myself as part of House Rowe… Maybe I could pledge myself as an underground lord? Now that would make me sound trustworthy!"

His tone of voice was so dramatic and exaggerated, Claude burst out laughing again. Felix rolled his eyes and Yuri glanced at him.

“Come on, you too!”

“I am not lowering myself to do that.”

“Want to bet that I can make you kneel in front of him?”

“Bring it on.”

Claude was laughing way too hard as Yuri pulled on their younger friend’s shoulder to drag him to the ground. Felix didn’t even put that much effort into resisting, clearly not caring as much about ‘lowering himself’ as he pretended to. Yuri was pushing him down, teasingly telling him to pledge allegiance when Claude intervened.

"Stop," he begged, almost crying of laughter, "seriously stop. Even as a joke! You don't have to, I get it!"

It was just a joke, made to highlight just how much of an empty gesture it all was, but still, he thought as Yuri let Felix up with a wink, Felix rolling his eyes but not caring either way. It was sobering to realize that it kind of was more respect and complicity than any of those he was supposed to rule had ever given him. From boys of Faerghus, the place known for teaching loyalty to your own country as a core value. There was something both hilarious and terribly sad about it, he figured.

"You guys are amazing," he said, unbearable fondness choking him.

He didn't mention how he wouldn't make them swear actual loyalty to them, even as a joke. They had people they loved that lived far from where he would go, one day, and he wasn't cruel enough to tear them apart. But he appreciated it. He really did. He hoped his mirth was enough to thank them for their friendship. They were wonderful and he loved them dearly.

It was different from what he thought about Hilda, he figured. He loved her too, deeply, a friend, his best friend. These two? That was something else. It was similar to how he felt with Nader, or his mother.

Family?

How would they take it, was he to admit it? His half-brothers had made his life hell, but maybe, with these two, he was starting to figure out what having siblings that didn't want to kill you was like.

They were in class, two days later, when the reports came. Monica had been found. There was no time to waste. He had jumped on his feet, ordering everyone to find back-up and to meet again in thirty minutes, ready to depart. Teach looked murderous, eyes angrier than he had ever seen them, and even just waiting thirty minutes almost looked like it was too much for her. He looked at Hilda and she nodded back, adding a wink that lacked its usual cutesy nature. She trotted by Teach's side, just in case she lost the battle with her newfound feelings and decided to do something rash and reckless.

"Let's fetch Caspar and Ferdinand," he heard her say, "I know where they are!"

And she was pretty good friends with them, a good choice. An aside glance showed Yuri hurrying towards Abyss. There wasn't much hope to find fighting aid, there, but he would get info, without a doubt. That'd help too. Marianne, Lorenz and Ignatz were rushing towards Hanneman and Manuela's offices, while Raphael and Lysithea were going to see if a knight, any knight was free to help them. Leonie clearly looked about to find Jeralt's mercenary troupe. They all had somewhere to go. Good.

"Felix," he said.

"I know," his friend looked tense, "the Blue Lions don't have class right now. There should be at least one on the training grounds."

One. They both knew which one. Claude nodded at him with a smile and they ran over there.

Indeed, Dimitri was there, playing with his lance like a good little soldier. Claude would usually tease him about that, ask him if he was still mad about losing to him during the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion (knowing it was wrong, Dimitri hadn't been mad then, he wasn't now, he had been _elate_ d and Claude wondered how sad it was for someone who was so beloved to feel so isolated that someone defeating you in battle was cause for rejoicing). There was no time for that. He turned to Felix, maybe his friend would know where to start better than he did.

Felix had stepped back the moment he had seen Dimitri, his features closing. It had been a reflex, a visceral reaction and seriously, Claude wasn't one to force heartfelt conversations on people (sincerity, brrr, how frightening), but they needed to talk about that sooner rather than later. It was destroying them both, obviously.

Well, anyway, no use waiting for Felix to talk.

"Your Princeliness!" he called out to the boy. "We need your help!"

Dimitri jumped, looking spooked out of his mind for a second, clearly he had been lost in thought. His face brightened seeing them, and then darkened again, clearly realizing the situation was serious. He looked tired, Claude noticed without thinking too much about it.

"Claude, Felix. What is happening?"

It didn't take long to explain. Monica had been found. They were leaving in twenty-five minutes, but hadn't been cleared yet. Not that they worried, even if Lady Rhea disagreed, she wouldn't be able to say no to Teach for too long. Dimitri simply nodded, lips pressed firmly, eyes darkly serious.

"I shall reach out for my classmates," he said, his tone somber, "twenty-five minutes you say? We will be there."

He brought all the best elements of his class.

Claude wished he could have been surprised, but he really wasn't. The Blue Lions rallied around their class representative the very same way the Golden Deer rallied around Teach after all. Just one word, and they probably had followed him without discussion. He looked around, then. Hilda had succeeded in bringing Ferdinand and Caspar, but she and Teach had apparently brought Linhardt too. He could see Leonie talk to some mercenaries. Professor Manuela and Hanneman were there too and bickering. The only ones missing were the knights, but it was no surprise. Clearly, their enemies had chosen the moment there would be no knights left in the academy to lay their trap. And there was no way that _wasn't_ a trap. But hopefully, they had underestimated the love everyone here had for their dear Teacher.

See that, Teach? Claude thought with some kind of morbid excitement. That's all the people who want to support you. Who want that revenge _for you_. He wondered how it felt, to be that loved, that respected. There might be a sting of envy in his chest, but it was smothered soon enough. She had deserved it after all. As everyone got ready to leave, he resigned himself to the fact that they wouldn’t get Yuri’s intel in time. Hopefully it’d be nothing important.

As expected, Lady Rhea opposed them leaving. She was more resistant to Teach’s anger than he thought she’d be, but that was his time to shine, then, wasn’t it? Finding the right words was second nature to him, it didn’t take him too long to have her accept, albeit reluctantly. She went with them until the gates, her steps nervous. Even knowing that most of the Academy’s most brilliant students were there barely assuaged her fears.

Speaking of said brilliant students, he hoped all of their newfound allies would be ready for what they found, though. Because just as expected, the first thing they could see once inside the Sealed forest their enemy had been sighted in... were demonic beasts. Four of them, surrounded by darkly clad soldiers and mages, hidden in the trees.

He heard an intake of breath, shuddering, by his side. Sylvain. The red-haired man was looking at the beasts in shock, and then there was some kind of illness, growing on his face, as if he was going to throw up right here and there.

It took Claude a second. Then Felix swore discretely and caught Sylvain's sleeve, silent support.

Oh.

Sylvain had never seen into what kind of beast his brother had turned, right? What a way it was to discover it... Claude mentally sent him support, no matter how unappreciated he knew it'd be (Sylvain's antagonism was funny most of the time, he was so jealous it was cute. But sometimes Claude missed the easiness of their first few exchanges. He had such a beautiful mind, he really wished he could debate more with him). In any case, that was a lot of opponents. Even with Teach's strength and rage, the Golder Deer could _not_ have done it on their own, good thing they had called for help.

And for a while, things were... looking fine, actually? They were fighting well and efficiently, cutting back and not pushing too hard. Despite the rage on Teach's face, she kept her cool well enough. The Blue Lions, Black Eagles and mercenaries, once told how to deal with them, cut the beasts down and if Claude turned down his brain enough, he could temporarily forget about the mangled bodies left on the ground, that wore suspiciously familiar uniforms.

Not everyone could, however. He heard Ashe hurl the first time he saw one, shock and horror rushing through him and making his body collapse on the ground out of repulsed aversion. Annette guarded his back as long as he was unable to stand up. Poor Ashe. Claude hated to think that he would have to get used to it. Welcome to my world of nightmares, he thought bitterly.

But then, despite their remarkable fighting prowess, something happened.

Teach had been chasing Monica - or Kronya as her real name seemed to be - when Solon had appeared. He had been too far from the scene at the time, too busy covering Hilda’s back against a brawler with heavy steel fists. Despite the cold anger that had hit him in the jaw, seeing the man responsible for Remire’s slaughter, he had stayed there, knowing he had his own job to do.

What he hadn’t expected was seeing said monster of a man stabbing Kronya. What he expected even less was the darkness that suddenly rushed in the air, engulfing everything around him before throwing itself at Teach.

Then, she just... wasn't there anymore.

There were screams, exclamations of anger and fear. And Solon laughed. He _laughed_ , spitting words of hatred about how she’d be forced to err forever. And he disappeared too.

His disappearance caused a lull, as if all sound had stopped. Claude was the first one to get rid of his shock for long enough.

"Lysithea," he yelled, "what is the range of warp spells."

"Not much," she answered sharply, "he can't have gone too far."

"We scatter. He probably didn't go towards Garreg Mach, let's fan out. Lysithea, Annette, you know dark magic. Lorenz, you too, stay here and try to figure out if you can help Teach wherever she was sent. Dimitri..."

"Agreed," the prince told him with a nod, "do not engage Solon by yourself. In fact, we should make sure we have healing items just in case we don't find him before he finds us. Our mages might get overworked. Ashe, do you have them?"

Ashe squeaked. When Claude looked at him, the young man seemed like he wanted to disappear, face pale, eyes quivering.

"Ashe, what is going on?" Mercedes asked softly.

"I... The healing items, I had them."

But he didn't anymore, clearly. Claude heard Sylvain swear the moment he understood that part too. Well, no time to get angry. Plus, Ashe still looked wobbly as he had since he had seen what the beasts really were… Had he managed to fight at all ever since?

"Okay," he thought, calculating, "so if we spread out, we need to make two teams." He had intended to lead one and let Dimitri lead the other, but they needed to retrieve these items quickly and as he had noticed, he was the fastest here when it came to walk among the numerous trees barring the way. "Ferdinand, you take them to the right. We'll join you quickly."

"What?" the young Adrestian said with shock, and then he stood taller. "Oh, of course!"

It had been an impulsive decision, but Ferdinand had already fought with them a few times and showed a gift for command. Hilda would be paralyzed by the responsibilities, Marianne, Ignatz, and Raphael didn’t have any leadership experience, and Leonie was too emotional right now between Jeralt’s death and Teach’s disappearance (the last time they had talked, they had argued, she looked terrified about that and if he had had time, he would have told her no to worry, that she would get to apologize). Yes, that was a good choice.

"Do be careful, please."

"I will. You too."

"Perfect. Ashe?"

The young man jumped. Yep, better keep him away from battle right now.

"You're coming with me, show me where you put the items down. We'll be back in a jiffy."

Ashe nodded, teary-eyed. There were a few surprised looks. Usually, he would have asked Lorenz to lead, he figured that was what surprised them, but the man would have his hands full trying to figure out where Teach was sent.

"Linhardt, you go with the Lions," he added, "since we'll bring the items to the Golden Deer, I'd feel better if the other group had two healers."

"Sure," the boy sighed.

"Okay, let's go."

There was so much urgency, agitating them, that no one discussed things any more. He saw Felix, following the Deers after one last glance towards Sylvain. Caspar went with Linhardt. It'd have to suffice to balance both teams.

Ashe was quick on his feet, even shaken as he was. He pointed towards the trees, quite far from where they were. It was around there that they had fought the first demonic beast - oh, he probably put them down when he was throwing up. Well, that explained that at least. Poor boy.

They went quickly enough, wishing to find their friends again as soon as possible. Ashe was cursing under his breath, more violent towards himself than he ever was towards enemies. Claude pat him on the back. They were still learning, and he _knew_ it was just bad luck that it had to happen in such a place, he knew that even through the urgency screaming in his brain. They found the corpse that had put Ashe in such a state and the boy froze for a second. Claude opened his mouth, ready to distract him, but then, he started looking around, frantically.

"It should be here," he mumbled, "that’s where I put my satchel down. Why isn't it here..."

Claude's heart stopped at these words. Oh no. In his panic to get the items back, it seemed like he had made a terrible miscalculation.

"Ashe," he said slowly," we're going back."

"What?"

"If the items aren't here, then..."

He didn't get to finish his sentence. There was a howl in his ear and the next moment, he had thrown himself to the ground, avoiding a violent hit. Ashe didn't have that reflex. The monster's paw managed to reach him, sending him sprawling to the ground, a few steps away. Claude gasped, calling out his name when he didn't stand up. Another hit almost got him and he rolled out of the way. He felt his axe fall to the ground and swore, rising on his feet.

The beast was wounded. It was the first thing he noticed when he had time to appraise it. It was wounded and not that big compared to others, but the pain was making it vicious.

Alone (do not think about Ashe who didn't get up after falling, do not think, do not...) against a demonic beast, there was no way he was winning this.

No.

That was no way to think, he scolded himself. He crouched, ready to dart. He could outlast the thing and kill it, it was already wounded. Was he a master marksman or not? Well, not according to most Almyrans but fuck them all. He could outshoot the best of them and they knew it.

The beast lunged and he avoided it, light on his feet. Taken by its own weight, it stumbled a bit and he took the occasion to shoot. The beast howled in pain. Good. Breathe, Khalid, you can do this.

It was a game of patience and endurance. It lasted several minutes, of him avoiding and hitting back, slowly getting more confident that he could do it, but not relaxing, never relaxing and thinking it was a done deal, oh no.

That was probably how he managed to avoid the spell the moment it went towards him.

Focus broken, he turned, finding himself face to face with one of the strange mages dressed in black. He was holding a staff, but his other hand was already brimming with magic. And at his hip... There was Ashe's satchel. Just as Claude had expected. Someone had taken it, hoping either to deprive them of the precious items or to bait them into a trap. A trap they had walked right into.

The beast stopped, as if humming the air. And then it attacked again, more frantic than before. Claude rolled to the ground, catching his axe as he landed next to it. He needed both of his weapons. When he stood again after the attack this time, there was no time to aim. Fire was being thrown at him. It missed, setting fire to a tree.

The game changed. The mage was controlling the beast, Claude realized with terror. It was like fighting two enemies of only one mind, they didn't leave him one second of reprieve. His arrows flew to the air, but one after the other, they went and they went, not wounding anything. Soon enough he’d end up without any left.

Well, to terrible odds, terrible tactics he supposed, wincing when the next spell grazed his leg. The fire was propagating around him, making the air hard to breathe. The mage fired again. Claude dodged the beast's claws and ran.

Straight into the magic.

He heard the mage yell in surprise and felt burning, awful, unbearable, for a second. Blinded by pain, he hit with his axe. A glancing blow, it hit the mage, who fell. Not dead, he wasn't sure what he had done, probably knocked him out, but he was out of the way. Still barely sure of what he was doing, he turned around and threw his axe towards the beast. It hit. 

The beast howled. His crest activated, fresh air rushing through his throat as suddenly the burns healed, pain turning more bearable.

And then the beast, in some kind of last, desperate attempt at surviving, started running. Still dizzy as he was, he had no time to dodge.

The hit sent him straight into a tree and, under the brutal pain, he could _hear_ bones cracking, feel his flesh opening under the claws. He fell to the ground, graceless like a lump, gasping. What had cracked like that? He had felt it in his chest, but not only... his head? No, probably not. Right? Wait, his failing thoughts were screaming at him, wait, aren't we forgetting... Beast. Beast?

The beast moaned, a weak, petrifying sound. Claude blinked and looked at it. Flames were burning behind it as it stumbled, and then, almost sadly, crumbled to the ground, its gigantic form turning into someone wearing a golden and black uniform.

He couldn't see their face and wasn't sure it mattered. He just felt... so tired. Disgusted, too, at what he had just done once more, but mostly exhausted.

And then the mage stood up again.

Claude blinked and, for a second, wondered where his axe was. He had three wounds at least, leftover burns, broken ribs and a concussion. He was writing the list of his injuries mentally, purposefully ignoring the bleeding gaps in his shoulder and hip. He could feel his crest panicking, ready to activate, to take from others, to tear down someone just so he could survive. Do not abuse its power, his mother had told him.

He had always known her advice was sound. Here he was, not following it and ending up in such a state.

Painfully, he tried standing, bow in his hand. He looked at the mage, teeth clenched. One hit. He just needed one hit to satisfy that sick craving in his blood, to get the pain to stop, to walk away from here with his life. But his limbs were shaking. The mage looked at him, and beneath the hood, Claude could see a smirk on his face, as if knowing he had the advantage. One hit. Claude just needed one hit.

One hit that he didn't get to make. His grip failed him, his bow falling to the ground.

At the very same moment a howl of fury resonated behind him and he saw a spear, flying near his head. It impaled the mage right in the head

Claude saw him fall to the ground, hopelessly, and did not have the time to try and fire any arrow before he was unmoving, cold. Dead.

A whine escaped his throat in horror.

"Claude!" he heard a voice scream behind him. "Claude, hang on!"

Desperately, as if he could be wrong, Claude fumbled his grip on the dagger he kept sheathed to his boot, kneeling near the mage, hoping, hoping. And what a cursed, wrong, disturbing thing it was to hope that someone was alive just so you could kill them instead.

No breath. No hope.

Hands dragged him back and he turned to his saviour, but also maybe the one who had just doomed him.

Dimitri's wide blue eyes, worried, panicked even, answered him. Claude didn't know how the prince had found him, where the others were, or anything. Wasn't he supposed to be on the other side, front line and all of that?

"Claude! You're bleeding, hang on, we need..."

He started looking around. No one else was here. Claude knew it. No one else was here because no one was supposed to be.

"Do you have the items?" the prince asked with a shaking voice. "We need to heal you, you won't..."

He couldn't finish. He didn't need to. _You won't hold on long enough. You'll be dead before we reach the others._

Claude felt cold. His eyes were blurry and he could have sworn there were tears at the corners of his eyes. Ashe's satchel had fallen on the side when Claude had knocked the mage down. Its items, the precious items they had gone to retrieve, were broken on the ground, unusable. A failure. A pathetic failure and for what? There was nothing to heal him. Nothing except a power that had to hurt other people to work.

"Just run," he said with any spark of hope he could still manage, "you're fast... you..."

"I'm not leaving you here alone!"

The flames around them were burning. Claude's lungs were aching. Yet everything was cold. Dimitri's face looked haunted, horrified. He was gritting his teeth, features deformed by fear. The prince raised his hands to his face, pulling on his own hair as if it could stop him from panicking. Claude didn't know why he was looking so distraught when they weren't even that close, but it wasn't helping him. He could feel his heart pumping, insanely fast, terror holding him by his throat.

"No, no, no, we have to have something that could help. You can't... I have to do something, I have to..." Dimitri was repeating desperately.

He was going to die? Here? Without even getting closer to his dreams and ambitions? After everything that he had survived, everything that he had fought for, everything that he had sacrificed? He was going to die stupidly for some stupid items he hadn't even been able to retrieve? Killed by a beast, a beast that used to be a classmate? It was so unfair. This time he knew he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, frustration and anger, mixed with terrible fear.

He was going to die.

"Your crest!"

Dimitri's voice barely managed to tear him from his drowning thoughts.

"Your crest!" the prince repeated, kneeling by his side. "The crest of Riegan! It's a healing crest, isn't it? How do we activate it?"

"No," Claude said numbly, "it only activates when I harm someone." And there were no more enemies to slay.

"Harm some..."

Dimitri inhaled. Claude wondered if he too had just realized that he had taken that opportunity from him. That wasn't his intention, Dimitri had no reason to feel guilty. The flames were getting closer. Dimitri needed to get out of there, quick.

"Dimitri," he mumbled, no snappy nickname on his tongue, "you need to..."

"Then stab me."

Claude froze.

It was barely an exaggeration with how ice cold he felt, but his body just stopped moving. Shock. Then pure, unadulterated horror filled him.

"No."

"Claude, please."

"No! No, I'm not doing that!"

Never. Never, never, never. Do not abuse your crest’s power his mother had said, and she was right, she was! Do not inflict that suffering on someone who didn’t deserve it. It was out of question. Never. Not this dark, awful power. It was something reserved to enemies, enemies who would kill him if they could, enemies he would only feel distantly sorry for killing or severely harming. Draining Dimitri’s life like that… He couldn’t...

"I'm strong," Dimitri argued, thumb caressing Claude's wrist as if to comfort him, "I can take it."

"No, you don't get it! I'm not taking that. I'm not! I can't, don't..."

He was babbling now, trembling. It wasn't just the horror, the pain, the concussion and the blood loss he almost wanted to ignore. There was no way he was hurting an ally, a friend, the freaking _prince of a country he wanted to ally with_. There were flashes in his head, flowers dying on contact with him, trees drying out, rotting in a matter of minutes, he had no control over how much he took. No way. No way, no way, no way!

Dimitri's hand was on his wrist. The wrist connected to the hand that was still holding the dagger.

"No!" Claude screamed despite everything. "Don't make me do this!"

"I'm sorry, Claude," Dimitri said softly.

He could feel himself sobbing, terror and despair fighting all of his survival instincts. He couldn't do this, he couldn't. He would kill him, he knew he would, he didn’t want to, he didn’t… He tried to let go of the dagger, but his fingers, weak fingers, were held closed.

As Dimitri plunged the dagger Claude's hand still held into his shoulder, all the Golden Deer's leader could think, briefly, was that he was going to kill his friend, and that he’d deserve all the hate that action would bring, this time.

The next seconds were agonizing. He could feel his wounds stitch themselves back together, his head clear a bit, his ribs ache a little less. His fingers, held in a bruising grip, felt like they were ripping his world apart. Then, Dimitri hissed and ripped the dagger out from his shoulder. Claude let go of it immediately, scooting back as fast as he could.

He stared at the prince, still scared out of his mind, but his heart was beating fast, relief in his lungs as he saw him move, clearly still alive.

With barely a second to get his bearings, Dimitri stood up and dusted himself, ignoring his bleeding shoulder with a poise Claude wished he could have. Claude looked at him, tears still streaming down his face, feeling too weak and dazed to do anything else. His body was still healing. He still had lost a lot of blood. He had been mostly healed, but he didn't feel able to move.

And yet, despite all that had just been taken from him, Dimitri was walking, taking his lance back from the bandit's dead body, and coming to him.

"We need to get out of here," he said to Claude, eyes shining with more purpose than before, "all that smoke isn't good for our lungs. I found Ashe before you, by the way. He’s fine, just dizzy. He was unconscious for a while."

Claude nodded, letting relief slightly lodge itself near the numb shock in his whole body as he released a breath he didn’t remember holding. Dimitri was moving without slowing, as if that wound on his shoulder didn't exist. Claude watched without strength, wondering if it was his dying body hallucinating something comforting for his last moments. He wouldn't be able to walk, his pounding head was telling him, so he didn't even try to stand. Dimitri gave him a small, pained smile and it was both the scariest and the most beautiful thing Claude had ever seen.

He let Dimitri help him on his back without resistance. His eyes closed.

His heart, too, was pounding.

After a few minutes, Claude was jostled from his almost sleep by Dimitri freezing and gasping, loudly. The quiet conversation between Ashe and Dimitri had been lulling him to sleep. He groaned and raised his head, trying to find out what was happening. He was still being carried, he didn't know why he expected that to have changed. Dimitri's back was large, almost comfortable if it wasn't for how bony he was, but as he suddenly rushed ahead, the position became unpleasant. Claude groaned, but Dimitri didn't slow down.

"Professor!" He yelled.

Ashe echoed the scream, much closer to them than Claude had expected. And then, only, did Claude's muddled brain realize what it was they had said.

He managed to raise his head. Indeed, it was Byleth Eisner, who was standing among the students, there was no mistaking it. But... her hair…

Her dark blue hair was now bright green.

She saw them and her eyes opened wide in alarm. The whole group started running towards them and Claude wondered what it was that had them look so spooked. Had they gotten rid of Solon?

Oh, right. He was in a pretty bad state wasn't he?

Ashe helped him down. He lacked the strength to do it delicately, but it was still helpful and thus appreciated. No one else seemed wounded, Claude noted, looking quickly at his Deers. But Mercedes and Marianne were clearly exhausted. Linhardt too, but not more than usual, which was probably why it was him Teach called for, at this moment. The green-haired boy knelt by his side and started working.

Sweet Gods, he would never take not feeling pain for granted ever again.

He could feel his ribs sealing themselves back together, his head didn't feel like it was being trampled on, and damn, he hadn't realized how hard it was to breathe? There were also the places he had been bleeding out from before Dimitri's insane action...

He shivered just thinking about it. That was crazy. Crazy crazy crazy. He usually took unnecessary risks, but that was on a whole other level and not someone like _Dimitri_ should ever do! Dimitri! Sweet, kind Dimitri with so many friends loyal to him, loving him, that even the one who pretended to hate him would probably destroy anyone who would even try to hurt him. Dimitri didn't need to take the inconsiderate risks Claude had had no choice but to bank on since his childhood.

He had stabbed Dimitri. Gods he felt sick.

"Claude?" Teach said slowly, right in front of him. "Are you okay?"

"Got a new hairdo, Teach?" he asked, hoping to get rid of the vision of his dagger, plunged in Dimitri's shoulder, out of his mind. Was Linhardt healing him too, at least? No, but it looked like Lysithea (right, Lysithea had studied the basics of Faith magic. It wasn't her specialty but she was decent...) was. Dimitri wasn't even paying attention to her, too concerned for him.

"Long story," Teach said, "we got rid of Solon. Everything is settled. We'll go back home as soon as you're healed."

"Uhuh," he said, feeling his tongue slurring words despite himself, that healing magic was making him sleepy again, not good, "makin' a good team, Lin, Lysi..."

"Of course we do," Lysithea scoffed, "that should be no surprise."

"Defeated Solon without me even," he snorted, fighting the shame out of his face, he hadn't been there, just like when they had gone to save Flayn, he hadn't been there. "Looks like you guys don't need me."

He yelped as there was a slap on the back of his head and Linhardt hissed.

"Please, I just healed that."

"Of course we need you, silly," Hilda's voice said, ignoring the healer, "don't be stupid. We were lucky to find the professor right before engaging Solon."

Her voice was a bit too far for her to be the one who had hit him. Made sense, there was only one of his friends who thought violence was an appropriate way to show worry after all. He tried to glare half-heartedly at Felix, but Linhardt held him in place until he was finished.

"Well I'm done," Linhardt said, "but you're in a pretty bad state. It's bedrest for you for the next three days. How lucky."

Not minding the way Claude's stomach was freezing over at that declaration, Hilda made a heavy disappointed sound.

"Oh no," she complained, so sweetly fake he could have gagged on it, "can you believe? You're going to have to rest."

He tried a lazy smile, hiding the worry that was already starting to eat him alive.

"For a lazy bum like me? That's just a holiday. What about you? You just said you needed your wonderful fearless leader. Will you manage?"

"For three days?" Lysithea added behind him. "I think we can manage without a wounded idiot."

Ouch. Well he probably deserved that.

"Will you be alright?"

Dimitri's hand, on his back, was warm and maybe just a little too strong, reminding him of things he wanted to forget, right now, even if they had happened just a few minutes earlier. He sounded so worried, that was what hurt, maybe more than anything. ’ _You made me stab you,_ ’ he couldn't help but think almost hysterically, ’ _do not worry about me, you terrifying sweetheart._ ’

"You heard the medic," he smiled instead, saluting Linhardt, "a few days and I'll be good as new."

Behind Dimitri's worried gaze, there was Felix's, harsher, but not directed at him. Suspicious. He was glaring at Dimitri's back, as if the prince would break Claude's neck any second. Claude made sure to give him a confident smile, hand clasped on Dimitri's shoulder, loudly proclaiming his thanks and promising that he could walk.

"Absolutely not,"Linhardt said, merciless, "with all the blood you lost, that's too risky."

"I can carry him," Dimitri proposed immediately.

Goodbye dignity.

“Okay,” Teach sighed, “now that this is decided, we should get back… and Claude?"

"Yep Teach?"

She passed a nervous hand in her hair, her bright green hair. Like Rhea. What was going on, seriously? Was it what...

"I'll need to speak with you," she said, frowning, "it's important. So rest up until then, understood?"

That was an order if he had ever heard one. And she had picked his curiosity. Was she going to explain what the fuck had happened after Solon had sent her away? If he hadn’t been so tired, he would have been vibrating with excitement.

“Sure Teach.”

“But you rest first, I’m not joking. Felix, you…”

She stumbled before finishing her sentence and collapsed onto the ground. It was panic again, but Linhardt just took one quick look at her and yawned.

“She’s asleep,” he rubbed at his eyes, “exhaustion, probably. That was a hard battle. We’re going to need to carry her…”

Dimitri stepped forwards, as if ready to propose himself before remembering that he had already offered to carry Claude.”

“Go ahead,” Claude tried to smile, “I can walk.”

“No you can’t,” Linhardt and Lysithea said at the very same time.

In the end, Dimitri did carry him on the way back, while Raphael took care of Teach. Leonie laughed, reminding Felix of a certain time, in the dining hall and how he could have carried Claude too, if he wanted. It took all of Claude's might (and tiredness) not to remind her that it really wasn’t the right way to carry a wounded person.

"Ashe said he was knocked out without even being able to fight," Dimitri said when Leonie and Felix started arguing about different ways of carrying someone taller than you, of all subjects, "the fact that you managed to hang on for that long is impressive. You even defeated the beast that hit him, if he remembers right."

"Hmm", Claude admitted, "he does."

"I'm sorry I didn't get there earlier."

"Don't. What were you doing there, even? You were supposed to go North..."

"I had a bad feeling about you and Ashe. After a while I told Sylvain to take the lead and went back. Then I saw the fire and... might have lost my cool."

The fire? Dimitri had tensed up as he said that. And he had looked pretty panicked at the time... Was it the fire?

"Don't like the fire?" he mumbled. "Well, can't blame you, it's not always very friendly."

Dimitri chuckled, a surprised sound.

"You don't think it's stupid?"

"Not really, no. Fire is definitely more dangerous than the dark and yet..."

And yet between the two, it was the second one that scared Claude so much he couldn't sleep without a torch and a dagger at his fist. What had become of his dagger already? Had Dimitri thrown it away after taking it out of his shoulder? He just remembered letting go of it… There was a small pang of loss at that thought.

"Fears aren't something we can control, I guess," Dimitri mused.

And yet he ran into the fire to save him. Why was he so...

"So there really are some brave knights in shining armor in Faerghus, huh? And here I thought it was all for show."

Dimitri stumbled and stammered words without meaning, Claude could almost see him blushing from head to toes. It was adorable. Who allowed him to be so adorable?

"Sshhhh," he laughed a bit and ouch his ribs were still painful despite everything, "let me compliment you. You just saved my life. Twice."

"Please, that was... I mean... Anyone would have done the same!"

No they wouldn't have, Dimitri, he thought, remembering hunts gone wrong and falls that anyone could have helped him with, but that he had to save himself from. Scars all over his hands from a time he had had to climb up a cliff, hanging onto brambles while warriors supposed to serve him one day ignored his calls for help. No, really, Dimitri. Most wouldn't have.

Sir Catherine was there to welcome them, Shamir by her side. They had gotten back during their absence. Lady Rhea not being there was kind of surprising, with how adamant she had looked that they do not leave. She would have wanted to make sure Teach would be safe, wouldn't she?

"Well that's new," the archer said when her eyes fell on Teach's hair.

Her absolute lack of interest was almost hysterical. It did make at least one person in the group snort and Claude was almost (almost) sure it wasn't him.

"The threat has been eliminated," Leonie said as if it didn't bring her personal satisfaction, "where is Lady Rhea?"

"The townspeople were starting to get nervous," Catherine explained, "seeing the Archbishop looking so anxious in public. When we got back, it was too late to send us after you, so we promised we'd wait here for you."

"I see you weren't unscathed," Shamir added and Claude kind of loved how disinterested she sounded by their well-being.

"Will be as good as new in a few days," he said with a laugh. “And Teach is just asleep, she’s not wounded.”

"If you say so. You should bring her to Lady Rhea, she’ll be relieved to see her safe."

Raphael nodded enthusiastically and started going. Most of the Golden Deer followed him, as well as the Blue Lions and Black Eagles. A few were shivering, he noticed, still shaken by how atrocious the battle had turned. Ashe, in particular, still looked ill, it was probably good he was going towards the infirmary…

In fact, the only ones who stayed here were him, Dimitri, and Felix.

“You’re not going?” Claude asked his friend with a smile.

“She was going to ask me to watch you,” he growled back, “so I’m taking you to your mess of a room.”

“It’s kind of you, Felix,” Dimitri said with that soft smile of his.

Felix ignored him, but Catherine laughed.

"Well now that you’re back, we don’t have to wait for you anymore. So know what? I'll go with you boys. I'm supposed to get to the Greenhouse anyway, so that'll be perfect."

Shamir flushed at that and mumbled about it 'being a joke', but her partner didn't listen, still smiling.

"Don’t you worry, princeling,” she smiled, “we’ll make sure he gets there safe and sound, you can catch up to your class.”

Almost reluctantly, Dimitri let Claude get down from his back. Oooh, his legs were woozy, he almost fell on Felix here and then. His friend stopped him from that ungraceful fate with just one hand and Claude was really definitely jealous of his strength.

 _I'll carry you too one day, you'll see._ He swore to himself. _How heavy can you be after all? You're all skin and bones._

"Do rest up, please?" the prince said softly. His big blue eyes seemed so worried...

There was warmth on Claude's face. He wasn't used to being vulnerable. And in front of Dimitri he had been _so_ vulnerable. How lucky he was that the young man wasn't interested in using it...

"You too," he said, "don't use your shoulder too much."

There almost was a pout on Dimitri's face at that, but then he nodded.

"I'll try not to."

And that was as much of a promise as he'd get. Dimitri glanced back as he left and Shamir said something. It made Catherine laugh again, but Claude didn't even hear what it was, busy as he was staring at the blonde hair and blue cape, slowly disappearing from view. He kind of wished he could look that majestic, huh...

"Let's go, boys," Catherine winked at them, "you probably shouldn't stand up for too long. Especially if you've used your crest too much like I suspect."

"Really?" Claude asked, starting to move. Felix's hand was still against his back and now that he was walking? Yeah, he was grateful. "How would you figure that out?"

"That's a skill of mine I've always had," the woman said as they started walking, "I can deduce who has which crest in just one glance. And sometimes how it affects them currently."

That... That would make her an absolutely phenomenal spy? Claude blinked. It felt weird to think that the most phenomenal swordswoman he had even met alongside Teach was maybe wasting her talents?

"You're serious?" he blurted out. "Do you have examples?"

"Well people like me, with the crest of Charon, tend to make it rain when we need the weather to be dry. It's kind of a curse of ours. Don’t ask me to hang the laundry, basically."

... A notebook, he needed a notebook to write that down.

"I need to spend more time with you," he said, knowing his eyes were shining with curiosity, "how many more of these have you got?"

"A lot," the woman laughed. Then she turned more serious. "I understand the curiosity, kid, I really do. But the truth is that most of the things I see are private. Sometimes secret, even. We all have things we want to be kept hidden, so I have made a vow not to divulge any of them."

Aw shucks. A Faerghan. He shouldn't be surprised, but still. He wondered, for a second, if she had figured out his secret too. If so, he figured it was in good hands at least...

"Fine," he sighed dramatically, "I guess I'll just die of curiosity now..."

"You'll be fine," Felix said harshly.

He hadn't said a word except to mention that he would take him to his room. He looked angry, fidgety. Claude glanced at him. They'd need to speak, the moment they were alone.

"If it can make you feel better," Catherine added, "it's not even always right. For example, I was convinced something about me was caused by my crest, but turns out I’m the only bearer of the crest of Charon I know who has it, so I figured it was actually just instinct."

"What was it?"

"Well, that very gift, in fact. I thought figuring out all that stuff about people’s crests was something given by the crest of Charon, I can almost _hear_ a voice telling me all of that, so I thought… I don’t know. But in any case, nope. No other bearer of that crest I know of has the same thing."

"Huh. Weird."

"You said it. Now, boys, here's the greenhouse so I'm leaving you. I have a bet to win, but be careful with the stairs."

"What kind of bet?"

She winked, her smirk looking wild.

"I promised Shamir I'd find out what her favourite flowers were. And I intend to succeed."

Claude couldn't help but smile, waving at her as she left. He usually tried to stay far from the Order of Seiros, not sure how they'd deal with him being half-Almyran if they realized it... But the more he thought about it, the more he was starting to think that none of them would mind. Between Shamir being from Dagda, how Cyril was a shoo-in to enter the Order too, and the incredible amount of pariahs he had met there (including maybe Catherine, he was starting to wonder if it wasn’t her own secrets that made her so eager to protect other people’s…), it was quite obvious the Order didn't care much where you were from. Some people could learn from that...

The stairs were difficult. He was winded when he reached the top of them, eyes watering due to the effort. Felix had given up on his light support to instead hold him up.

"I'm carrying you to your room," he said once they were out of the stairs, and Claude didn't have the strength to refuse. Fortunately for him, it wasn't that far from where they were. It was lucky of them that he had kind of cleaned his room (because Felix's empty empty room really made him sad and if there needed to be another 'intervention' he'd rather it happened here), so Felix just had to let him on the bed before sitting next to him, looking aggravated and glaring at the chair, that was now the place covered in books.

"You're keeping me company?" Claude exclaimed happily, pretending he wasn't still tearing up from the strain of walking up the stairs.

"I have to make sure you rest, you dumb shit. Yuri will probably know that we're back in a few and replace me, but in the meantime, I'm staying here."

Claude raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. They both had seen him, just now. There was no way Claude was exerting himself in his current state. He wondered just how much he had worried Felix for him to be so clingy... Not that he complained, actually, the company was nice.

And so he smiled, soft and sincere. Felix frowned more and groaned, as if he wasn't sure how he felt and hated it.

"You..." he started, hesitantly, and then he pointed at him, his finger like an accusation. "You are a prince. And a Duke. The future leader of two nations. What the hell were you thinking?!"

"Well, I didn't plan to fall on a demonic beast, you know?"

"I know you, you dumbass. There's no way you didn't take some of these injuries willingly, banking on the fact that your crest would heal you."

Oh, touché. Claude winced. Felix groaned again and put his head in his hands, muttering curses and something about him being ‘completely reckless like Sylvain, what a bunch of idiots’ and yeah, okay, not his finest moment. It had been a desperate action, yes, but still. Pretty stupid of him.

"Yeah," he sighed, "I lost my cool I think. I'll try not to find myself in this kind of situation again."

"You better. People are counting on you."

Far less than he'd expect, Claude thought with bitterness. But he hummed simply and closed his eyes. No, no that was wrong. A lot more people than even he knew were waiting on him. All those who suffered because of the war with Almyra, all the kids of two worlds like him, all the people of Fodlan and Almyra who didn't _need_ to fight like they did and probably would know if only they _listened_...

"Hey," he said softly, "have I ever told you why I came here? In Fodlan, I mean."

"... Duke von Riegan needed an heir. I always assumed that was the reason?"

"Well, yes and no. I took the opportunity, but that wasn't my only reason."

"You wanted to discover your mother's land?"

He chuckled.

"Yes. I did. I wanted to prove to everyone that they weren't the cowards that my people called them. That I wasn't _lesser_ because my mother came from that side of the border."

Felix crossed his legs, lips pinched. He probably had guessed the rest.

"When I came here and realized that Fodlanese people were just as prejudiced, well... That's when I got angry."

"Fucking deserved to."

He laughed, grateful for the support.

"Yeah, I guess. But then I learnt more and realized just how similar the two lands really were, behind their different cultures and Faiths. I realized how... in the end we're all just people, who have so much in common it's absurd how we keep fighting each other."

"... You want to end the war with Almyra. We kind of figured that out."

"Not just that," Claude hummed, "I want to tear down the borders."

"... What?"

"Goodbye, borders. you could go to Almyra of Fodlan without controls, free trade, people mixing their cultures and it not being seen as weird or dangerous. In fact, I kind of wish to do the same in Fodlan. Let people go to Faerghus and Adrestia, exchanging ideas and knowledge, let Leicester help Faerghus during the harsh winters, let Adrestia lend some of its artists to Leicester, let Faerghus show off all they learnt from their harsh conditions... I want the whole world to be like this monastery. No borders, no one giving a shit where you're from... That's what I want, that's why I stayed here."

It wasn't the grand speech he was sometimes rehearsing in his head for when he would reveal his grand plans to the world. There was a bottle metaphor in said speech, about how he wanted to break it. But it was out in the open at least, and he felt lighter already.

Felix was frozen on his seat. He had what Claude had dubbed his 'confused kitty face', his amber eyes opened in shock, looking gigantic in comparison with his usual frowning expressions. He always looked so much softer and younger in these moments... It was suddenly hard for Claude to remember that he was not even a full year older than his friend.

"You are insane," the boy blurted out.

Claude winced. Ouch. Expected, but ouch.

"That's ambition if I've ever seen it," Felix then added, exhaling, "I'm... I'm going to be honest, I don't know if it's possible. But..."

He shrugged, embarrassed, suddenly.

"I guess if there's one madman in all of Fodlan who can create this kind of future, it'd be you."

Oh. Would Felix think it was still the stairs if he started crying? Because he wanted to, right now.

"It will take a long time," he said instead and thank the Gods, Felix didn't comment on his shaky voice, "and I can't do everything at the same time. Someone will need to work on Almyra too, which is why I won't be able to rule the Alliance for too long. But whoever will replace me at their head will have to be someone I trust to hold the same beliefs and dream... It's not perfect, but if she were to accept, I think Teach would be a good choice. Plus, everyone would follow her, if only because of the Sword of the Creator."

"Why are you talking politics to me?" Felix growled. "Also don't you have your order of events mixed up? Before even thinking about letting the Alliance to anyone, get people on board with you. From what you've mentioned about the council and the border, I figure you need the approval of the Gonerils before anything else."

Talking to Felix was the best idea he had ever had, let it be known.

"Yes. Holst adds a lot of weight to the debate, so he really should be my priority among Alliance lords. Luckily, he's a nice man and I'm pretty good friends with his sister. So I think it should work out on that side..."

"Honestly, the moment the Deers take their parent's place, you shouldn't have any problem with the Alliance whatsoever, even Lorenz can be reasoned with. I think it's the Empire you need to worry about."

"Why that?"

"Their borders are close to Almyra too. And they already have too many nobles convinced that Leicester and Faerghus still belong to them, they'd see opening the Almyran border as an invasion of their home. A few reactionary speeches, and people can get enthused without even realizing what they're really being told. If they act as if monsters or barbarians are taking advantage of their lands, people will follow, self-righteous and convinced they're doing the right thing when they're just being manipulated by egomaniacs."

"You've thought about that a lot."

"You have no idea how many attempts to retrieve Kingdom lands are recorded in Faerghus History books. The manifestos all sound the same. 'Corrupters and usurpers have taken our lands to weaken the Empire, it is only rightful and wise that we claim them back and liberate the people!' That kind of crap. Thing is, it works, apparently. The only reason Faerghus is still standing is that there never was more than one lord spouting it at a time. The Emperor was always too close to the Church to think it wise to invade lands that had been deemed holy. Which, you know, isn't exactly the case anymore. Nor is Leicester seen as a holy land anyway. I’m guessing Leicester hasn’t had much trouble on this part mostly because Hrym would never stand for the Empire and they had their hands full with the Brigid and Dagdan invasion attempts, this last century."

Yikes. Yeah, he'd need to take that into account.

"I guess I'm going to have to try to figure out how to find middle ground with Edelgard as quickly as I can," he sighed, "it'd be much easier if she didn't look so intent to ignore me."

Felix shrugged, not interested in discussing Edelgard, obviously. It made sense, Claude wasn't even sure the two ever talked. He hummed and tilted his head, waiting to see if Felix would talk about the next subject by himself. His friend stared at his knees.

"Then there's Faerghus and the Boar," Felix added reluctantly.

Claude's mouth felt dry for a second and he felt a tic move the corner of his lips. He looked at his friend, reproachful.

"I don't like that nickname."

Felix's eyes fell to the floor, face tense and Claude knew he was about to defend himself. So he waited.

"It's not the same," the young man said, "it's not a matter of who or what he is. It's a matter of how he acts. He... The way he acted..."

A small shiver shook his frame and Claude tilted his head, realizing with surprise that it wasn't just distaste. Felix's eyes, when they rose to look at his shoulder instead, looked haunted, scared.

"What I saw two years ago," he said slowly, "it wasn't something a human would do. The way he tore them apart and laughed doing so, relishing in the slaughter..."

His breathing was shaky. Claude frowned, ready to put a placating hand on his shoulder and put that disturbing conversation behind them if needed be. He didn't have to.

"I like a good fight," Felix said after a second, "I enjoy the thrill of outsmarting or outpowering my enemy and beating them. But that? That wasn't a fight. That was a wild beast losing itself to bloodlust. There were no enemies and no allies for him, just the desire to kill and rip apart."

"You're afraid of him," Claude said.

For a moment, Felix met his gaze, just long enough to tether himself back to the present. He blinked, then looked at his cheek instead, shuddering a bit.

Claude didn't like the insult Felix used for Dimitri. It felt too similar to some he had heard for himself, too dehumanizing to his tastes. But there was no doubt about it. Whatever he had seen during that rebellion had terrorized him, leaving a deep scar, making him feel like the kind but powerful prince Claude knew was human no more.

"Dimitri is dead," Felix said harshly, "all that's left of him is a princely mask that he can't even wear properly."

"Everytime you say something like that," Claude answered softly, "I feel like you're trying to convince yourself more than anyone else."

Felix laughed. It figured that the first time Claude had to hear Felix laugh, it'd be such a hollow, desperate sound. There was nothing good about that laugh, no positive emotion. He decided here and there that it didn't count.

"Why am I telling you this?" He huffed. "It's not as if anyone has believed me before. Not even the others, those who knew him as he was, managed to see the difference."

Claude put a hand on his shoulder to placate him, with the other, he forced Felix to meet his gaze.

"Hey," he said, "I believe that you saw something, indeed. I believe you when you say that Dimitri changed, because anyone would change after living through what he has. But I also know that by not being as involved as you are, I can look at things more objectively."

He released Felix, freeing him from his stare, feeling him shake against him. He took a few seconds to compose himself.

"That thing isn't Dimitri," Felix said at last, "I won't get my hopes up when I know they'll be squashed in the end."

Because when you had lost so much, pushing people away rather than letting them hurt you more seemed safer.

"Maybe," Claude whispered, "but he saved me today."

Felix stiffened and Claude smiled.

"He saved me. And it was scary, because what he did? I don't know any human who would have done it either. But he didn't hesitate. And I think, more than anything, it's the proof that even if the friend you cared so much for will never come back, the good inside him didn't leave."

"Don't."

Claude took his hand off Felix' shoulder, choosing instead to cross his arms behind his own head.

"I'm not going to promise anything I don't know I can do," he said with a smile, "but I do like the Dimitri I've gotten to meet. And I don't like thinking that there's nothing I can do to help him get better. He saved me, so I'm going to see if I can save him. It makes sense? I at least want to see if I can."

Felix looked at him again, face tired, expression softer but empty. As if he refused to feel any hope. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"You’re an overambitious idiot, but you're good with beasts," he ended up mumbling, "I guess if someone could tame his inner animal, it'd be you."

"Aw, you trust me. That's so cute."

"Shut up."

He chuckled and pressed his shoulder against his friend’s, feeling at home, as if he was back to Almyra, right now, and about to go feed Lujayn.

“You know,” he hummed, “I often feel like I’m lucky to have you, but now that I think about it, I don’t think that’s the right word.”

“Is that so.”

“Indeed,” Claude smiled, “I’m sure of it, now. It’s not luck, it’s fate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why I love that victory quote of Claude so much, but I knew I had to place it xD There's a reason I made sure to have it in [that kinda-trailer-gmv of the game](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kElch1tFvLI) I made as a dare with a friend! (It's not great by any means but I had fun making it and there's a dancer Felix cameo around 2:35 if that's any incentive x) I figured I could share in case anyone was interested in seeing it xD)  
> In any case, that 'intervention' was far too much fun to write. It's the one part in the chapter that has no bearing on the plot at all, but as I've mentioned before, I just love writing these kids being kids. Okay, only Felix is younger than eighteen at that moment, but they're all kids for me, and I want them to have fun. They always have to be so serious all the time, it's just nice to let them joke around. It's nice to get Claude to talk about Almyra too, since he pointedly does his best not to at all times in the game. So yeah, I liked that scene a lot x)  
> The funny thing about Claude is that he's such a subtle character in all of his interactions that in the end even when you have all the info about him + what was said in Nintendo interviews (like the fact that he has half-brothers who made his life hell), you mostly have to piece a puzzle back together to truly get him. That makes him absolutely fascinating I think, and it's pretty amazing how opposite he is to Dimitri and another one of the things that I feel make their routes so complementary. Dimitri wears everything on his sleeve and tells you everything. When you finish AM, you know all you need to know about him, there's nothing secret about him anymore. Claude hides things from you his whole route, even only admitting to his royal ties if you marry him xD On the other hand, he's the only one Byleth tells everything to. They mention Sothis appearing to them to Dimitri, but it's only to Claude that they say how she's been there forever and gave them her powers before disappearing. It plays into how it's only in VW that you learn the whole truth about the world, and I like thinking that it's because when Byleth sees Claude, they see someone who will keep their secrets safe.  
> Also yes. I actually got the idea of the 'voice' talking to Felix when Catherine mentioned that gift of hers during her supports with Lysithea. Because this kind of little thing is my kind of plot bunny x) Felix and Catherine have more than a few similarities that I think could have been explored really well in game, but there's one in particular that interested me here! Because they're literally the only two to have it in the entire game. ;) You can try to guess which!  
> That was a hella long chapter! One that has a bit of misery in it, of course, but hope, mostly.  
> So of course, we're going back to sad-land next chapter. Hang on, friends, it's just a bad moment to live through!


	27. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judai is afraid and doesn't exactly knows why. Until he knows exactly why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm conflicted about this chapter x)  
> I'm honestly almost sure it's because of its positionning. It comes right after _five_ of my favourite chapters in the fic and right before one or two more, so of course the one chapter I'm less happy with is going to be disappointing to me. Which makes me sad because these are some of the moments I knew I needed to have for a long time. And I'm honestly pretty happy with most of it, just... not as enthusiastic as I was about the previous ones xD  
> But you know the good news about me posting a chapter I'm not convinced with, when I have a crazy bet going? It means the next one comes soon after! Yep, chapter 27 is coming right after this one, I'm calling a few hours, maybe one day top. Winning said bet basically means me posting chapter 28 before thursday and chapter 29 before the end of the month ;)  
> On this note, I hope you enjoy this chapter back in sadness land! Oh, by the way. **Content warning** for what isn't really but definitely looks like a suicide attempt. If you feel like you can't read that part, don't hesitate to skip from _"Yubel howled in his ear, deafening."_

**Chapter 26**

_Grieving bird,_

_Gave his word,_

_Took the pain,_

_Darkness and all vain_

**2nd Day of the Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1186**

**Judai**

Judai's head was pounding. He had not slept last night. At all. Sure, Gilbert had been back before sundown, allowing him mental respite, but he wasn't entirely off the hook. As long as Dimitri wasn't in the right mental state, what used to be Rodrigue's workload suddenly fell on him and let it be known that managing a grieving army that didn't know whether to celebrate their incredible victory or to mourn their numerous dead took a lot of work. Being seen as a holy figure also didn't help, which meant that Judai had spent the night listening to sobbing soldiers, hugging exhausted healers, and even, once or twice, dancing for someone who refused to stop working despite their body not following. As long as you focused on working, you could forget the battlefield. Judai got it, he really did. But he was now incredibly tired.

Worst of all, though, without any doubt, were the ghosts.

It was something he had learnt a long time ago, that ghosts were rarely a pleasant company. They stayed behind due to regrets, rage, confusion, so many things that had stopped them from reaching for death’s grasp when it took them, forcing them to wander the world. Judai was never sure what they became. Sometimes, their purpose in staying behind was resolved, allowing them to move on or become something else. Sometimes, they just lost themselves, for years.

He had known a ghost who had stayed behind because his thirst for knowledge wasn’t sated at his death, this had been the nicest otherworldly company he had ever had, in truth. But a full millenia later, he didn’t expect that one ghost to still hang around.

Instead, the ghosts there were soldiers fallen into battle, men wailing after such a brutal, quick death they did not even realize they were dead at first, wandering around aimlessly, begging for old friends of them to hear them, not understanding what they were doing here. Others were enemies, haunting those who had killed them with rage in their eyes. There was a woman, begging, sobs in her voice, for someone to tell her daughter she loved her, they had argued before she left, please, please tell my daughter I love her, I beg of you...

Yes, dealing with the ghosts was the worst part, he thought, his head spinning. He wanted to help them, all of them. But while he had managed to listen to a few of their pleas, guide some lost souls, his time was already eaten up by the living.

He just… didn’t have time for all of them, he thought desperately.

" _Breathe,_ " Yubel said softly, " _Think of five positive things._ "

Five. The first, obviously, was Felix. Felix was alive, had indeed been taken in by the Alliance's army. Judai didn't get to see him, but Ingrid had come to tell them. Annette had almost started crying at that very second, relief choking her. Even Mercedes had looked less tense. Felix was okay, well, physically at least. Judai hoped he'd get to see him soon, that battle and its results could not have been good on him.

The second, Dimitri was getting better. He had come in earlier today, awkward, but more anchored to the present than he ever seemed before. He had ditched part of that black armor, too, the one that never left him even when he went to sleep, as if scared he would get killed were he to take it off. It had been broken up at parts, in need of repairs, it probably couldn’t do its office anymore, yet he had kept it. Well, not anymore… He asked if he could help with anything. Judai had told him to help the troops gather their supplies to get ready to leave. Let him use his strength for something that wasn't fighting for once, accept that he was more than the weapon of the dead.

A third, the Alliance had agreed to a parley. They would talk, peacefully, as they would have done from the start if things had been ideal. Judai prayed it'd work out, but it was a good start, at least, especially after the disaster that had been the battlefield.

A fourth, the parley would happen in Garreg Mach. He tried to muster more happiness at that fact, how long had it been since he had been thinking of going there after all? A while, that was how long. He was hoping to get answers, finally. Or he would the moment he stopped feeling choked up by all that surrounded him.

A fifth...

Was there a fifth thing?

" _Yubel,_ " he thought pitifully, " _I can't find a fifth._ "

" _I am here,_ " they said softly, " _and I will always be. Does that count as a fifth?_ "

It did. He sent them all the love he could muster, feeling himself shivering until they gave him their own. A few seconds to himself. He just needed a few seconds to himself.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Inhale. Exhale.

"Sir!" A soldier exclaimed. "We should be ready to leave in less than one hour."

"Good. You may join your battalion."

The soldier saluted and left. Before him, Judai could see smoke. The Alliance's funeral pyres had been lit. He had managed to bear witness to the moment the Kingdom had set their own on fire, burying his own tears behind a mask of serenity he was far from feeling, the last goodbyes for so many soldiers he had eaten with each morning and evening, bathed with, some had flirted with him. He hadn’t even been able to stand in front of Rodrigue’s pyre, had arrived too late for that…

And even then, he had left the moment it had been deemed appropriate, other people asking for him. Dying people in the infirmary, for some, wanting to see the face of one they deemed holy, forgiving them for perceived sins before they passed on. The dead might be able to wait, but the dying weren’t...

His steps led him to the tent where Army commanders should still be preparing to leave. The air was heavy and suffocating, just like it had been during the battle. Even the fresh morning didn't change that. It was all prickling at his mind, almost painful. Destruction, senseless destruction everywhere.

War had been happening here in Fodlan for a while, it was no surprise there was so much Light everywhere, he knew. Still, Light, too much Light. As if every human was slightly contaminated. That wasn't something he wanted to think about… The influence he had pushed from Dimitri’s mind was like a wound, and he wondered, were he to put his skin against other soldiers’, how many of them would hurt to the touch too?

The first person he saw in front of the tent was, in fact, Dimitri, his glowing lance resting against the ground. Areadbhar was still one of the most grotesque things Judai had ever seen, and its power in battle felt inhuman, but the most disturbing thing about it, ever since he had first seen it, was how familiar it was. It reminded him of when he had felt Yubel's transformation, their human and dragon bodies fused in the most atrocious way possible, their bones torn astray from their body, most of them reassembled in the most twisted sight imaginable. It reminded him of the Light, tearing their everything apart, only leaving their soul for Judai to mend, until he managed to share heart and body with the one he loved more than anything.

He didn't know why Areadbhar reminded him of these things. He just knew that he hated it. So he turned his head away. Dimitri was standing, looking inside the tent, but not daring to go inside. The glance he threw at Judai was lost, sad. Judai looked inside.

Felix.

Judai almost fell on his knees here and there. Felix was there, apparently looking through a pile of papers. He looked... fine? At least there weren't too many bandages that Judai could see. There were a few folded up clothes by his side, it looked like all of his things. Judai glanced at Dimitri again and Dimitri glanced back, helpless.

He had no idea how to act, Judai realized. Of course he didn't. Felix had been harshly critical of him since the beginning, repeating again and again that Dimitri would kill them all. And now, Rodrigue was dead. Judai was keenly familiar with the knowledge that apologies would never be enough, that you could never be forgiven, but still wishing, deeply, for the people you wronged to know just how sorry you were anyway.

It all was too fresh, Judai decided, for everyone involved. Judai nodded at him, trying to convey that he'd take care of it. Dimitri nodded back, lowering his eye to the ground and leaving piteously. Feeling his heart break a bit, Judai entered the tent.

"Hey."

Felix glanced at him, nodded, and went back to whatever he was sorting. He looked...

Not wrecked, not really. Out of it. Completely out of it, as if the outside world barely registered. His eyes were dry, but heavy, and the bags under them showed that he hadn't slept either that night. Was he compartmentalizing? Or had it simply not hit yet? It had all happened so quickly, Judai wouldn't blame him.

There was a feminine voice softly humming, coming closer. An orange-haired girl he didn't remember ever seeing entered the tent. She had a side ponytail and definitely wasn't wearing their soldier's clothes.

"Hey there," she saluted him before going to Felix, "got new orders, man. I'm supposed to lead the way to Garreg Mach."

"As if no one else in the army knows the way." Judai could almost _hear_ the way he rolled his eyes as he said that.

"Oh you know the people here. They're paranoid. By having me lead the way, they make sure there are no traps I guess."

Felix scoffed.

"Anyway, I'm bothered because it means I can't obey my previous orders," she groaned, "so you better follow them for me."

"You are being ridiculous."

"Yes, yes, keep telling yourself that, but he was serious and so am I. You do _not_ stay alone right now."

"Leonie,” [Felix sighed as he tried tying his hair up](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/739115863155933184/812765294959263765/chap_26.png), “I'm going to be walking with a whole army. I'm not going to be alone."

"You know what I mean. Hey, you!"

She turned to Judai, who honestly wasn't exactly sure of what was currently happening.

"You keep this one company on the way back, please. Or you get someone to do it if you have to leave."

"Leonie!" Felix protested, sounding slightly offended. It was the most emotions Judai had heard in his voice since he had entered the tent, he decided to take it as a good thing.

"Sure," he smiled or at least tried to, "I had intended to."

He raised a hand, hesitantly.

"I don't believe we've met? I'm Judai."

"Ooh, _that_ Judai?" Leonie shook his hand firmly. "You don't look like a noble."

"I'm not."

"The Kingdom, giving control of their army to someone who isn't a noble or a knight? Is it going to rain cats?"

That might have been nice, that whole army needed a lot of purring therapy, right now.

"Long story," he said instead, "and hopefully I won’t be at the head for long. So, you are a soldier from the Alliance?"

"Leonie Pinelli," she saluted him, "commander of the archers squadron in the army of Flames, as we commoners like nicknaming it."

"... The what?"

"Yeah, turns out Claude isn't exactly the kind of person who will make others fight in his name. He figured having the people fight for the Professor would draw in more hearts, especially since she's kind of become the new Archbishop of the Church. Didn't you notice our coat of arms? Not really all gold and black and moon-looking, right?"

Judai honestly hadn't been paying attention, but Felix nodded.

"That sounds like him," he mumbled as he put his clothes inside his bag.

"Well what do you know," Leonie shrugged, "he was right! The truth is that most of Leicester doesn't really feel that much loyalty towards one lord or the other, especially in the South. Gloucester hasn't really been making it easy for them. So it's much easier to rally them with the Goddess, even those who aren't exactly devout know of her and that she's supposed to be a force of good. By Ailell, I've always thanked her when I had a good meal, yet I'd never gone to a church before I got to Garreg Mach!"

But by doing that, Claude was deflecting any influence and support he could get on that professor of his... That was a dangerous game if you didn't fully trust the person you gave that much power to. It was... humbling, in a way. Despite Rodrigue and Gilbert effectively directing the army, they had made sure everyone fought in Dimitri's name, Judai recalled, so maybe it was a similar situation… But Claude was the leader of the Alliance the same way Dimitri was fated to lead Faerghus, so still, it was...

"That sounds like him," Felix repeated, quieter this time.

Leonie patted him on the shoulder and took the bag he had just finished up.

"I'll take it on my horse," she promised, "don’t you bother with it. See you back home, okay, man?"

"Yeah," he said, "see you."

She left, her step firm. But her face was worried and the stare she gave Judai was fierce. Yeah, he heard her. He wasn't leaving Felix on his own. It was kind of funny, he thought, smiling despite himself. In just a few minutes, he felt like he already understood why she and Felix had become friends. No nonsense attitude, fierceness and energy... Yes, she looked like the kind of person he enjoyed the company of.

Felix still hadn't said a word to him. He was busy touching up his hair again, his hair that was tied with a familiar silver and black ribbon. The one Hilda had given him, a lifetime ago. Judai watched him do so, realizing he had never seen him wear it before. His fingers were slipping around it, as if he couldn't stop them from shaking enough to actually tie his usual ponytail up. Looked like he was a lot more shaken than he pretended, Judai thought helplessly, or maybe he wasn't even pretending. Maybe he was just in shock.

In any case, Leonie was definitely right to be worried. Felix wasn't fine. At all.

"Felix," he said softly, "will you walk with me?"

After a few seconds, Felix finally managed to fix his hair.

"Will the Boar walk with you?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Probably."

"Then yes. I will."

There was nothing in his voice as he said it. Judai stared, not knowing how to react. He drew a blank, not sure why exactly Felix would want to be near Dimitri. Many reasons flew into his head, too quickly for him to catch even one. He just was sure of one thing: there was no anger beneath the decision.

No anger, no. All the anger that had seemed to be moving him all this time had simply evaporated, vanished without a trace. Like a puppet without strings, moving sluggishly without its usual energy. Like he was just... doing what was expected of him. As if with all of his world had tipped around and so he just took anything that felt familiar and clung to it as a coping mechanism.

Judai couldn't find it in himself to smile for him. A small, awful thought jumped into his head, making him wonder... Had he and Rodrigue even reconciled before the battle? They had talked on the way, Judai knew, but it had been a tactical talk. Had they even had a real conversation since that argument about Dimitri? Dimitri, who Rodrigue had died protecting...

Judai couldn't know how Felix felt. He was even pretty sure Felix himself didn't know how he felt. There were too many complex feelings to parse through, there, and it was no place for it. Maybe that was no surprise Felix looked so dead to the world right now, processing all of these messy emotions would be... _ugly_. For lack of a better word. He felt Yubel fidget inside his soul, as if wishing they could comfort the young man too. Hah. In a lighter situation, Judai would have teased them, saying that he _knew_ they liked him. Always had, a fondness he hadn’t exactly understood but felt the very same.

They were similar, he thought, Felix and Yubel. The childhood friend fated to protect their future king. Tragedy separating them, but love and care, despite everything, staying there… And now at a loss, Felix was latching on his father’s last actions to be able to keep walking long enough, falling back on that ‘protect Dimitri’ that had been so ingrained in him even all the hurt hadn’t managed to entirely turn him away from him. Just like Yubel and Judai, a long time ago...

But in the meantime, neither of them could do anything for Felix but... be there, he supposed. It was just another weight on top of the sheer terror he kept feeling. He couldn't explain it. He was scared, like on the verge of a disaster. Had been ever since the eve of the battle, and the feeling hadn't left with Rodrigue's life.

During the night, however, he could pinpoint two moments he had felt it more than ever. One had been when they had found an Empire scouting party, retreating, and had renounced giving chase. Another had been when he had brought food to the Imperial prisoners who had surrendered to them. Fleche had stayed silent, wisely, tear tracks on her cheeks. The others hadn't said much either, nibbling at the food without a word. And yet he had been scared. Amazingly scared of them and he didn't know why.

It was disturbing. What exactly had made his instincts panic so hard at weaponless people who were being watched? Was war really ruining whatever was left of his sanity? He didn't even have time to think about it, really. Too much work to do.

When the army started moving, he stayed near Dimitri, as he had said. And Felix was there, as he had said too. He wasn't wearing his usual sword, Judai noted, had he lost it? The one he had instead looked like a bland iron one, not the kind that suited a master swordsman like him.

All in all, the walk was silent. Dreadfully silent. Judai would have loved some noise, to not be alone with his thoughts anymore. But it was like any voice would break the fragile statu-quo that were functional Felix and Dimitri. Where one looked emotionless and miles away from there, staring ahead without seeing anything, the other seemed lost and confused, not sure where to start, stealing glances around and then turning away in shame every time someone glanced back at him. Judai was pretty sure he was planning a whole apology speech in his head.

The middle of a march probably wasn't the best moment for these two to try to talk, Judai figured, but it was still painful to look at them like that. Something Sylvain and Ingrid seemed to agree on, with how the first one was hovering by their sides, like readying himself to intervene if things went wrong, and the second one kept looking about to burst in tears, biting her lips and forcing herself to not show a thing. Time so save her from this stifling atmosphere...

"Ingrid," he said, out loud but not too loud, "would you mind checking on Annette? She looked shaken when we left."

Kind of literally shaken. She had been shaking, and her smile refused to stay on her lips. Another one who hadn't slept that night, obviously. He had seen her rush to Gilbert and hug him with all of her might. The man had looked surprised, but had returned the embrace. It had been so easy, for Judai, to realize why she had been so adamant.

Who knew what Felix and Rodrigue’s last interaction had been? The red-haired girl refused to let her father leave her sight without another hug on her part...

Ingrid almost looked about to protest, but then, she lowered her head and he could swear he saw relief on her face for a second. She nodded briskly and started walking faster, her Pegasus, Calisto, following her.

That was one good thing done. Now onto the next. He turned towards Sylvain. The man didn't even leave him time to open his mouth, shaking his head with a glare. Okay, no rescue needed there. Or more like it wasn't wanted. He was standing a bit away from the awkward duo, but the way he kept looking at them, pale, showed that he refused to leave them alone. Not like a jailer, though, more like...

Oh.

Well Judai had to revise his opinion as to why Sylvain had always been watching over Felix. ’ _He's the baby._ ’ he had said a few days ago, and maybe there was truth to it. The young man had looked absolutely destroyed when they couldn't find him on the battlefield. It wasn't like Felix to mistake overprotectiveness as mistrust, but add it to the way no one had seemed to like his involvement with Claude and the Alliance and it could explain how he had been so convinced that was it... Judai himself hadn't realized that was the reason, because it was Felix. Felix! Felix, who Judai wasn't even sure could be at risk during a battle before Gronder. He was so exceptional with a sword after all. The skirmishes until then had left him unharmed, barely looking winded. Ingrid had sprained wrist, Sylvain had needed to get healed for minor injuries, even Rodrigue had shown signs of magic exhaustion, Gilbert had scratches despite his heavy armor, and Judai had had to help Annette and Mercedes out of situations. But Felix? Felix had looked every bit as invincible as Dimitri. Even now, as he watched him, Judai couldn’t see the wounds that had forced the Alliance to take him in, to save his life. He wasn’t even sure how that had happened, truth being said, a part of him wondering if they hadn’t just used it as an excuse to make sure he was safe...

So no, Judai hadn't realized. Because why would you need to protect someone that much stronger than you yourself were?

" _Love,_ " Yubel told him softly, " _you literally cannot be harmed. Yet I still want to protect you more than anything in life._ "

" _I know,_ " he told them, " _I know. But you were the first one._ "

The first one to feel the need to protect him. The only one maybe, even, to think that someone had to. Because Judai was strong, undefeated when it mattered, people leaned on him, he didn't lean on people. He didn't need to be protected, did he?

Yes he did, he thought miserably. And so did Felix. It was his own mistake, even if understandable.

There was no use staying here doing nothing except calling himself stupid, though, was there? He searched in his satchel. There were dry meat rolls there, preciously packed. Easy to share. He gave one to Dimitri without a word. The young prince jumped at that, fumbling as he took it.

"Ah. I am not very hungry..." he almost apologized.

"Not my business," Judai answered, shrugging.

Dimitri just stared at it, looking unsure. He tilted his head after a while.

“I… might need new armor,” he said as if it were the subject at hand.

“I’m sure we’ll find some for you.”

“It… already exists, in fact. I was told it was ready for me.”

Why didn’t he put it on before, then? Judai didn’t exactly wonder. That black armor he used to wear had been part of him just as Areadbhar had been. A dark, broken thing, that had protected him for so long the idea of being parted with it seemed to terrify him.

“It’s just,” the prince fidgeted for a bit, “I couldn’t put it on by myself. Some of the laces used to hold it in place I cannot reach by myself.”

He needed someone else to put it on, someone he’d trust enough to get near his unprotected back…

Yeah, no wonder he had refused to wear it.

“I’ll help you with it,” Judai promised, “now eat.”

He left him without another word. From the corner of his eye, he saw the young man, hesitantly, presenting the meat to Felix, without a word. Felix came back to the present, or at least it looked that way, and just stared at it before shaking his head.

"Don't starve yourself, idiot." he huffed, his voice weaker than usual.

Dimitri fumbled again, likely about to separate the roll in half to share. Judai smiled a bit, distributing more and as he started getting away from them. He waved at Annette and Ingrid when he saw them, and Ingrid's eyes shone for a second at the idea of food. His stomach lighter, he moved towards them.

And then he heard the commotion.

There was first a shout, and then more yelling. Judai jumped, frantically looking around. He could see the few soldiers, around him, doing the same, until he found the source of the noise.

The Empire prisoners.

One had gotten a sword, somehow, and was taking it out of a Kingdom Soldier, stabbed in the gut. A few others were fighting back too, looking manic and insane. What the hell was...

Then one turned to him. And Judai understood.

" _No!_ " Yubel roared in his head.

Their eyes were glowing yellow, face deformed in inhuman ways, almost snarling and laughing mad, their whole body only expressing one wish only: to destroy.

The Light.

And he had known, he had known it was strong enough to possess people, he had known after the corpse in Hrym, but then it had been time to march on Gronder and it had been a scary mystery for another day. Too late, too late, always too late. It was there. It was _possessing Empire soldiers_. How long had it been possessing them?

“Nothing worth noting,” a guard yelled, “just some of the prisoners rebelling! Keep moving!”

But no, that was wrong, he thought frantically as he started moving towards them. There was something worth noting. Feeling panic in his breath, he wondered, was it waiting for the right moment to show itself? Right now, in front of him? Or had it discovered how weak he was, weak enough that it managed to run under his nose and he _didn't even notice it_?

No, no, he thought as he went faster. Whatever the reason, he needed to subdue this one now. This wasn’t a situation like Dimitri, these prisoners were full-on possessed, unable to actually control themselves, and they’d get killed for something they had no choice in. He needed to intervene.

He thought of the one who had laughed at him, the day before. He had been so damn blind, he thought, feeling rage starting to replace the panic. No wonder it had laughed.

There was a guard, moving away from the commotion.

“I’ll be right back,” he told the others and Judai recognized him, he had been guarding the prisoners for most of the night, had bowed to him twice, eyes shining with respect that had made him want to gag, “I’m just warning His Highness of what’s going on so no one slows down.”

And he started in Dimitri’s direction. Judai paid him no mind, focused on how he was going to find the strength to destroy all that Light, maybe one at a time, he’d also need to make sure none of the guards who had stayed near them were infected he…

The guards who had stayed near them.

He whirled around when he realized what he had just missed, terror in his chest. The guard was getting closer to Dimitri, away from Judai, far from Judai, purposefully staying far just in case, making sure no Darkness could notice him reigniting the flames of destruction inside.

“Nothing to worry about, Your Highness,” he was saying, raising a hand, looking respectful, getting closer, almost touching Dimitri, Dimitri, broken Dimitri with his fractured mind who had been an easy prey all along, who Judai had just healed, who would...

"Dimitri!" Judai yelled in fear, wondering how much of it had been planned, had the whole 'Emperor defeated' thing been a part of this plan? _Was the Light allied with the Empire_? He wouldn't get to Dimitri on time, he knew despite stepping around the men with all of his speed, he wouldn't…

The guard’s hand didn’t manage to reach Dimitri, neither did the sword he drew. Instead, the moment he heard Judai’s scream, Felix stepped forwards, putting himself between the prince and the soldier.

The sword hit him instead, piercing through his arm.

For one small second, the world was silent.

And then it exploded.

The guards who had been stopping the prisoners screamed, and the possessed men fell on the ground, like puppets with strings cut. And then, these guards, these very much armed and armored guards, drew their lances and swords. Judai barely had time to yell a warning before they had turned, slashing at their neighbours. There were screams, yells all around and Judai drew on his shadows, all he had, desperation going through him. They had only guarded the prisoners for a few hours, he thought with hope, that was very much a brutal possession, one without finesse, the kind where the Light spent all of its strength forcing the possessed to obey it. It was destructive, but weak, the kind that could be pushed away more easily, he knew it. Plus, it couldn’t surprise them like that again, could it? It didn’t have much time, it would need a vector to get inside someone else that quickly, now, like a…

A wound….

Judai felt his eyes widen, the moment his shadows closed themselves on the possessed guards and whirled around again, to look at Dimitri and Felix in terror. Some people had caught the soldier’s arms, tearing his sword from his grasp. He was collapsing, just like the possessed prisoners had. The Light possessing him had left him. Left him towards…

Almost mechanically, eyes glazing over, Felix drew the iron sword he had been wearing.

" _Oh,_ " Yubel hissed, " _fuck_."

There was no time to think about how right they were. Instead Judai felt both of their horror and panic tear them apart and he pulled more in fear. The Light’s target had been Dimitri, who was currently the greatest threat to the Empire. It hadn’t gotten him, but the one it had gotten instead was in the right position to get rid of him anyway.

And Felix was quick. The speed with which he turned towards Dimitri, blade drawn and ready to attack, was terrifying and it was only the prince’s reflexes that allowed him to raise Areadbhar and stop the attack before it could hit his unusually unprotected form. Already pulled back by the Light he was fighting behind him, Judai threw all he had left at Felix.

It was like being torn in half and he gasped, then stumbled. Pain ran through him. He was using most of his already dreadfully weak power before, he thought weakly. To wash the Light in the guards away, before it was too late and their own comrades had to kill them. Felix's blade was locked against Areadbhar, Dimitri looking at his friend with shock. Sylvain yelled too. And Judai reached out again. Painfully, desperately trying to get his shadows to Felix's mind. The iron blade didn't change course, staying put against Areadbhar instead of keeping on with the battle. Felix was fighting it, Judai realized with relief, good, he was fighting it.

"Something is controlling them!" He could hear Sylvain yelling, he understood, thank the Gods, Judai didn't have the strength or the time to explain right now. "Try not to hurt them, we need to figure out what's happening!"

It was as much an invective to stay away from Felix and Dimitri as it was to not hurt their soldiers, so that was one less worry, and he could have kissed Sylvain for that, the young man getting closer to his friends, as if ready to stop Felix himself if needed be. Stay back, Judai wanted to yell at him. If he got hurt, who could tell he wouldn’t be the next victim? Just one wound had been enough. One wound. And wasn’t that the proof that the Light had put most of its strength into trying to possess Dimitri? Yet it was roaring at him, fighting him from all sides and he _couldn't_ destroy it like that. His control was too shaky, his body was already screaming. He was almost sure of it: the guards had been a distraction, to stop him from being able to focus on the one battle that really mattered.

"Come on," he hissed under his breath, "come on Felix."

Felix was fighting it, he thought as he pulled, more and more desperate. He just needed a hand, an edge, he could do the rest, chase it from his mind, forcing it out until Judai could get rid of it without risking hurting him. He was fighting hard. You could see it in the way his sword stayed locked with Dimitri's lance, pushing instead of disengaging to strike again. Dimitri looked distraught, but he didn't move away either, likely realizing that this stalemate was the best they could have right now. And it was. Dimitri couldn’t get hit, even less than Sylvain, even less than Felix. Because he had been the true target, the man who apparently was a danger to it. And Felix had...

Judai groaned in pain as the Light in the guards struggled against his grasp. They were still fighting some of their men, Judai didn’t know if they had hurt anyone, but people were turning away from Dimitri and Felix’s fight and rushing towards them, so it looked like the situation was quite dire on this side too. That was a terrible stalemate, Judai thought, feeling sick from the pain. On the one hand, most of the Light’s strength was turned towards Felix and Dimitri, just one wound and it could change hosts, he needed to get rid of it the quickest way possible. On the other, all these small Lights behind him, that he was trying to subdue but couldn’t, torn as he was between all the people he had to monitor at the same time, were hurting their people and he needed to stop them soon too...

"Come on," he grit his teeth, feeling tears of pain at the corner of his eyes, "come on. You can do this, you're strong."

But hurt. Felix was hurt. He maybe wasn't a target as dangerous or vulnerable as Dimitri, but he was probably the second worst choice. Because...

Rodrigue...

There was a growl rushing inside his throat, fury and rage and pain, and he _pulled_. For a moment, the Light in Felix's mind receded a bit.

It happened almost instantly. Felix's eyes cleared, for one second. He raised his weapon, forcing it away from Dimitri and Judai groaned, not relieved yet, no, because he wasn’t out of the woods, but maybe with that edge, Felix could finish forcing it out of himself without Judai needing to…

Yubel howled in his ear, deafening.

” _NO!_ ” They screamed in panic. ” _DON’T LET GO!_ ”

Memories entered his mind like a desperate rush of terror and anguish and he gasped again under the feeling of abject suffering, the intensity, the distress of one who had been possessed by the Light before, tortured for years until led to fight one they loved, more than anything. For a second he was Yubel, feeling all they felt as they opened their eyes in terror, realizing what they were doing exactly, how they were hurting Judai, they were fighting Judai, they were going to kill Judai, they were… No, no, no, it hurt, they fought it, they couldn’t do that, stop, my body, stop, don’t move, stop what you’re doing, stop, STOP, STOP!

Clawing at themselves in a desperate, self-destructive bid to _stop moving_.

Sheer terror and Judai reached out for Felix again, his voice stuck in his throat as he could see the fear and confusion in his eyes, the terrified way the grip on his sword changed.

He didn’t have time to get to him before, like a terrible reflex, the young man turned his sword against himself.

It felt like a dream. Judai watched it happen almost in slow motion, feeling the Light weaken then die out, screaming, bleeding out from its host's body.

No, its host's _bodies_.

He had lost control, his shadows had exploded. The infected soldiers fell quietly to the ground, unconscious. Distantly, Judai knew that he might have hurt them, that he could only hope it wasn't anything serious. But he had lost all control and it had exploded and he was now kneeling on the ground, useless, unable to feel anything but pain, the white noise in his brain feeling like a hammer was being rammed on his skull.

Felix had stabbed himself.

He had aimed for the neck. And Judai just looked on in shock and horror despite being blind for a moment, until Sylvain's agonized scream tore him from stillness.

Among the shock and the exclamations, Dimitri's eye had widened. Fortunately, he reacted much faster and much more usefully than Judai did. Throwing Areadbhar to the ground, he rushed ahead, catching Felix's falling body with one strong arm, and screamed, one, guttural, life-saving sound.

"MERCEDES!"

Judai forced himself to stand up. His body was howling in pain, but he didn't care. He shouldn’t have let go, he shouldn’t have let go, he had lost control and probably hurt all of them; but he needed to do something, he had to! Darkness was a power of creation. So. He. Would. Create.

" _Judai!_ " Yubel exclaimed as a warning.

He didn't listen, reaching even deeper, agony flaring through every pore of his body. His shadows enveloped Felix as surely as Dimitri's arm did, hopefully dense enough to stop the blood, even if just for a moment. Mercedes was running towards them, they just needed time, just a little time for her to be there. Sylvain was there too, face white as death. He was screaming, but what, Judai didn't know, he wasn't listening. He wasn't sure he could even hear. He was begging, mentally, for Felix to have missed. To have hit too close to his shoulder to die instantly. They had just gotten him back, they couldn’t lose him again, especially not for good. Please let him be alive, please let him be alive!

” _He would hurt himself rather than risk hurting Dimitri,_ ” Yubel said, voice trembling, ” _even knowing it I didn’t…_ ”

Nausea and wonder were battling inside Judai’s chest. Despite everything, after all the hurt, that love and devotion were still so strong and self-destructive. And wasn’t that awfully familiar? It was a whole other thing when you saw someone else act like that… 

Dimitri was pale. His eye wide. His lips kept mumbling words Judai couldn’t hear, promises of death for the ones responsible, he would guess.

Sound came back to him like a shockwave and he collapsed onto the ground. By his side, he heard a squeak, someone kneeling.

"Judai!" Annette yelled.

"M'fine," he articulated painfully, "m'fine, Felix..."

"Dimitri," Judai heard Mercedes say, "you have to let him go. I need to see him to heal him. Please, Dimitri."

Annette helped him up, her hands shaking, blue eyes absolutely terrified, and Judai looked, desperately searching for what was happening. He had gotten rid of the Light, but let it not be too late, please not another death, please, please, please...

"He's still alive," Annette was mumbling, repeating, again and again, "Mercie would know if it was too late, he's still..."

It was Ingrid who ended up forcing the prince's arms away, helping their dying friend to the ground. Mercedes started working and Judai watched, transfixed.

He had pushed the Light away, hoping to give Felix enough control back so he could focus on the rest of his problems.

He had stabbed himself.

He had stabbed himself.

Judai was going to throw up.

Yubel was soothing in his ear, mumbling sweet nothings with no meaning, a comfort rendered moot by how shocked they were themselves, apologizing desperately though he didn’t know to who. Annette's hand took his. She crushed his hand. He crushed hers back.

They waited and Judai felt his shadows leave, slowly, as they were replaced by the effects of magic. He couldn't feel the Light in the air anymore. He had destroyed it, he hoped, but would have to check on everyone who had been nearby, couldn’t leave even one stone unturned this time… Later. He didn't feel able to stand up, his mind was hazy, but that part of the Light, at least, was gone. That part. There was no way this was all the power the Light still had. And he had barely managed to fight it back at the cost of all his shadows. He couldn't feel them anymore. They were going, leaving, leaving him even weaker than before and his mind was hazy, hazy, hazy...

Someone, among their enemies, was using the Light and Judai was unable to fight. Terror gripped his stomach once more and he did all he could to focus on Mercedes, slowly, painstakingly using all of her knowledge and strength to bring their friend back from the gates of death.

When she raised her head, she looked severe, pale, eyes turned sadder and firm.

"We need to get him to the monastery." she said, and he heard her as if she were speaking through a veil. “But for now, he’ll live.”

Judai felt himself tear up, shaken by both relief and pain. There were a million things wrong with the situation, starting from how he hadn't been able to fight the Light and finishing with the thing everyone had seen. Ingrid had started crying and Sylvain, his ashen face lax with too many emotions to count, hadn't gone to comfort her. Annette stayed on the ground with Judai, shaking. Judai couldn't see Dimitri's face from where he was and he didn't know if he wanted to.

Felix was alive. At that point, that was the only thing he could hang onto.

It was thinking these words that he finally fell unconscious.

Roars of fury argued in the ether, of Death spurned by two it wanted, casting its curse. Of Light chased down, foiled and raging. Of men hating the sun, who hadn’t made as much of a dent in their enemies as they hoped. The prince was alive, the prince was untouched, he could still rally his own and take down what they had built. He could still ally with the golden moon, he could still fight back.

But the king, the blankness thought, telling them, whispers of hatred, the king was a whole other matter.

He is weak, the pale wind mumbled in their ears, he is weak right now. He is weak. The way he hadn’t been able to chase them by himself was proof.

He is weak, he is weak. Just as they had planned and hoped!

Army or not, they realized with pleasure, he was weak. They could still do it, then. They could kill him.

Without the Supreme King as these wretched beings’ last line of defence, the world would belong to humanity, once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!  
> You might have noticed that there's a drawing - again - in this chapter, there is honestly only two reasons for it to exist. Reason one, I had that nice reference of someone tying up their hair I wanted to try my hand at copying, and reason two, I really wanted to draw Leonie but her turn is still a long way coming for my tarot x) so here it is, a small drawing made for fun! Let's hope it turns into a habit, it forces me to get better!  
> Talking about my drawings and my tarot, Dimitri and Marianne share the particularity of being (for now) the only two drawings I made where the character doesn't wear their default outfit. Instead, Marianne has a Priest outfit and Dimitri gets his Great Lord armor because it's my favourite armor in the game x) So of course I had to refer to it there, with Dimitri wanting to change his armor.  
> Now, what did Felix ever do to me you say? ... Honestly, the reason the "being possessed and doing something drastic" fell on him was literally that it was the one that made the most sense. I knew I needed a possession by the Light, I knew it needed to happen right after Gronder since it was the one moment it made sense to have Imperial prisoners walking among the Faerghan army, I knew I didn't want it to be Dimitri when he had just been healed and was the target anyway... So yeah, Felix who just lost his father and is kind of falling back on the old habits of protecting Dimitri at all costs as a coping mechanism made sense, as awful as it is. The fact that I then realized I could have interesting stuff happening with him afterwards sealed the deal. The stabbing yourself so you wouldn't be forced to kill your friend scene definitely comes from me being traumatised by Saiyuki Gaiden, which I only realized once I had already written it. So yeah, anyway, poor Felix ;; I swear he'll get a break, soon.  
> Can't say the same thing about Judai.  
> Speaking about Judai, this chapter and the next one are a unique case in the fic because they're the only two chapters that keep the same PoV and the same timeline! So see you soon with more Judai and a chapter I think a lot of people have been waiting for!


	28. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Judai gets to Garreg Mach and sees familiar faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say a few hours, didn't I?  
> I can't remember when exactly I named all the characters' mounts when I played the game, but I have a whole folder with these names xD You already know 'Calisto' and 'Gerwynn' for Ingrid's Pegasi as well as Destra and Lujayn the wyverns, but these are the cooler names. Leonie's horse is named 'Captain', while Sylvain's is named 'Chastity' because you can't tell me he doesn't have that kind of sense of humour (as a result I HC him as having named most of his friends' mounts and them all having ironic or dumb names). I also have tame ones like 'Penelope' for Rodrigue's mare, which is actually kind of sad when one thinks about it.  
> Anyway, a funny thing about that chapter is that since it was one of the first ones I wrote - to probably not many people's surprise - it ended up being rewritten and edited a lot as I moved on, to the point that despite it being on the longer side, it's the one that had the least typos when I prepared to post it! x)

**Chapter 27**

_Could you describe the face you saw?_

_Could it be one you recognize?_

**3rd Day of the Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1186**

**Judai**

He woke up on a horse's back. After a few seconds of wondering how exactly he had managed to fall asleep on such a torture device, a hand pressed on him, as if to make sure he wouldn't fall. He stirred a bit. And then, the pain in his shoulders suddenly reminded him of everything.

He raised his head with a start, gasping in shock as his painful muscles complained. A few swear words. He recognized Sylvain's soft voice.

"Hey," the young man said, "you awake?"

Unfortunately yes.

"I'm fine," he said, more like a reflex.

"Not what I asked."

"I'm fine. Felix..."

He couldn't see him around. The soldiers were walking again, looking forlorn. One saw him awake and smiled, elated and relieved. There was a pang in his chest and he returned the smile, albeit more confused. Right, one needed to smile for the men, didn't they? But Felix...

"He's stable," Sylvain's voice was pinched, "for now. Mercedes couldn't see the extent of the damage, but she's confident in his chances. It’s been almost a full day."

Relief almost choked him up here and there. Instead he exhaled and felt Yubel, checking on him, making sure he was okay. They chastised him for the risks he took, of course, but there was no actual reproach in here, knowing he hadn’t… intended to explode like that. He could hear the terror and sadness, however. They had known. They had known the risks when he hadn’t.

Judai had never been possessed by the Light.

It was a perk of being the incarnation of Darkness, he supposed, he was immune to its influence. He had already known from Yubel just how disgusting it was to those it didn’t care for hurting. He had known about their pain, their torture, the suffering that had twisted them and torn everything they were, twisting them into a pawn of destruction. Even nowadays he wondered if the Light had been especially awful to them _because_ it was Yubel. The one shielding Judai, the one he loved more than he had ever loved anyone and anything. The being who had eternally devoted themselves to Darkness. Yes, it had to have taken some sick pleasure into torturing them, he knew.

And through their memories, he had known many other things. He had known of its ability to force itself inside people, a possession both similar and unlike the one it usually favored, slow and subtle, a progressive influence that seeped itself into broken minds until it was all they could think about, until they were one with the Light, their bond almost impossible to sever. He had had to save someone like that, once…

That wasn’t what had gotten into Felix. No, that had been the unsubtle-forceful way, much like Yubel...

"How are the guards who were possessed?" he choked at Sylvain.

"Still unconscious. Physically they seem fine, no one is sure what's keeping them asleep."

Judai nodded again, a prickle of shame in his gut. Gods, he hoped they'd be alright. He had hurt them, he knew that. He hadn’t meant to...

"The prisoners who went berserk, though..."

Judai shivered.

"What happened to them?"

" Most are okay. But two are dead."

"What?"

He didn't remember having to chase off any Light from their minds, what had happened? He could feel his heartbeat get faster, frantic.

"No one knows how exactly. The others woke up fine, with no memory of what had happened. But these two were just... dead."

He would have to look at their bodies. They probably had been consumed by Light, he thought with a shiver. As usual, the Light had no consideration for its hosts, no interest in the well-being of its allies. Using them, discarding them, not caring. Pushing them to the unimaginable.

It had been in Imperial soldiers, planted specifically with them, apparently either to possess Dimitri or to kill him. It had been an Imperial plan all along, there was no doubt about it. He had known for months that he wanted that Empire to stop its war, but now that they were allied with the Light?

He wanted it gone.

That was a heavy weight in his stomach, that he knew was in part caused by anger. He was too numb right now, still paralysed by his fear (Felix’s panicked, unthought act kept running into his head, making him feel sick), still waking up from having used far too much power. He wouldn't be able to do that again, and the shadows kept whimpering. He didn't have time or energy left to process that he just... wanted that Empire gone.

Was it too much to hope that all those responsible for it had been heavily infected with Light too? That he'd be forced to forgive them?

It wasn't even a matter of hoping, he knew. If the Light had been solely in charge, that war wouldn't have been in the stalemate it was when he had woken. It would have been ended and over with, probably with more destruction than anyone but Sothis could have soothed and repaired.

" _Keep that anger in your heart,_ " Yubel said, " _you'll need it later._ "

" _Take care of it, then._ "

Sylvain had been silent for a while, but he opened his mouth again.

"That's what you were talking about, right? The Light? That thing that possesses people and pushes them to destruction?"

"Yeah."

Sylvain's grip went tighter.

"You’ll need to tell everyone about it."

"I do. I'll tell them at Garreg Mach."

He felt Sylvain nodding. Garreg Mach. They were going to Garreg Mach.

"Good. Because we passed Myrddin earlier. So we're almost there."

They were? Judai looked ahead.

It was magnificent. His breath stayed trapped in his throat as he took in the monastery. It was... Absolutely beautiful. And ruined. Many of its walls had crumbled down, some roofs were broken... And yet it was still one of the most beautiful things Judai had ever seen. What must it have been like before it was razed?

Behind him, Sylvain looked at it too, eyes guarded, sad. Right, he had been there before. Seeing it like that was probably devastating to him. And not only to him. At their side, a soldier, the one who had smiled at Judai earlier, started sobbing when seeing the place looking so desolate.

"You did something, didn't you?" Sylvain asked, ripping Judai from the soldier's misery.

"Huh?"

"Before that thing, the Light, took a hold of him... You warned us. And then you collapsed from exhaustion. I'm pretty sure I saw you use magic too but I was... _otherwise preoccupied_."

Smart boy. Judai hummed, closing his eyes.

"I'm opposite to the Light, we're deadly to each other. Basically, I surrounded it with my shadows and tried to smother it slowly, without hurting anyone..."

"I'll pretend I understand what you're saying."

Judai smiled despite himself. He lost his amusement quickly enough.

"Well, at least, that was my intention... I lost control when I saw Felix..."

He shivered. Sylvain flinched behind him. Yeah, not good, not good, Gods he was going to have nightmares about that.

"Was it the Light?" Sylvain asked, voice clipped. "Did it make him do that?"

Judai didn't want to answer that question. He also had absolutely no way of changing the subject.

"Judai," Sylvain pressed him, sounding angry.

"No". Gods, Judai sounded miserable. Well, he felt miserable so it only made sense. "I helped him shake off the Light for a second and... apparently he decided to make sure it couldn't try to take control again."

That was a nice way of saying it. Sylvain would be angry at him, now, wouldn't he? After all, it was him who had given Felix that opportunity... He started shaking, guilt choking him up.

"Fuck," Sylvain muttered. He didn't sound surprised.

After a few seconds, he laid his forehead against Judai's skull, trembling.

"Fuck," he repeated, "that fucking idiot."

"Sylvain, I..."

"Don't you dare apologize."

"I..."

"No.” He spat. “You don't get to argue with me on that. He dares calling me suicidal and then he does that shit, I just... I can't... Goddess, how dare he!"

"If it's any comfort to you, I don't think he really thought about what he was doing at the time."

"Nothing new under the sun. In case you hadn't realized, I'm not sure Felix ever makes thought-out decisions."

Well, Judai thought, watching the walls of Garreg Mach come closer, he could think of one.

The moment they entered the town, there was a rush. Judai gasped in shock as shadows, precious shadows _rained_ on him. They hugged him, howling in joy, cooing and singing, making his body lighter and easier to move and...

He felt himself almost break here and there as they embraced his weakened, hurting body. What the _hell_?

Shadows. Darkness. Ever since he had woken up, they had been missing, disappearing, so few and far between that he could barely feel them. So weak and small that just calling on them was painful. Yet here they were, so strong and comforting, as if a dam had been broken.

No, not a dam, he realized. It wasn't that they had been suddenly left out. It was that _he had entered the place they were in_.

Feeling dazed at the sudden power surging through his veins, he let Sylvain help him down the horse. Oh.

Oh, that was what being alive felt like.

Water in a parched throat, a breath of fresh air after almost drowning, soothing, calming darkness healing wounds, souls and spirits laughing and smiling, life. Life, at last.

He had known he was abnormally weak, he had known he was barely feeling shadows. Knowing was nothing against the feeling of _right_ when finally, _finally_ all the shadows in Garreg Mach started singing. Invisible to all but him, and yet Sylvain froze.

"A problem?" Judai heard himself say, inhaling, realizing for the first time in months how heavy he had felt all this time.

"Nothing. You're just..."

He gestured vaguely. Yes, something had changed. Something had changed but what mortal could have known what. Judai just nodded at him, distantly, overwhelmed by all the feelings that were coming back to him, the world suddenly clearer, the sounds more distinct...

"Do not worry about me. You should rest."

"Take your own advice," Sylvain sighed, "I'm going to get Chastity to the stables, and then I guess I'll go to the infirmary, if you need me."

The infirmary. Where they were rushing all those who had been wounded during the attack. Right. Judai's tentative elation disappeared suddenly. He nodded at Sylvain, the wind cold and heavy. Right. Even in front of this unexplained miracle, it was no time to rejoice yet.

If they were lucky this attempt from the Light would only have claimed a few lives... And a lot of fear. Judai stumbled, thinking about how Felix would feel, waking up. It hadn’t been too long, it wouldn’t be on Yubel’s level, but still.

_Still._

It wasn’t something he wished on anyone…

The shadows around him hummed sadly, as if sharing his distress.

" _What happened?_ " Judai wondered, letting them slide through his fingers as if they were made of silk, " _It's the first place that actually feels normal since we woke here._ "

" _I have theories,_ " Yubel answered, " _but you're not going to like them._ "

" _I haven't liked anything that happened to this world since we woke up, shoot._ "

" _This place is holy._ "

" _Yeah, it's a monastery._ "

" _No, what I mean is that Sothis has influence here._ "

Indeed. Judai tilted his head, his shadows filling up his senses. Sothis' power could be felt everywhere, welcoming, motherly even. It was old, ancient, the kind that would have disappeared a long time ago if the one it originated from wasn't a Goddess.

" _It's protected from the Light,_ " Judai realized.

" _Yes. The Light can't reach this place. So that means..._ "

That meant it couldn't take its shadows. It wasn't the first place that felt normal, it was the first place that _was_ normal here, Judai thought with horror. The whole world was filled with Light, burning, painful Light of Ruin, shadows squirming, barely surviving.

No wonder after a thousand years old he hadn't healed. If the very thing giving him strength was disappearing, then...

"Ah! You're the kid from Ailell!"

Pink.

A small tornado of pink hair ran to him, looking like she was in a hurry. He recognized her, after a blink. Hilda, the woman who had been talking with Claude. The one who made the ribbon. Oh Gods, the ribbon, did someone pick it up? Felix's hair had come undone during the confrontation, he thought he remembered...

"Miss Hilda?" he said softly.

She looked at him for a second, hesitation on her face, and then nodded.

"How tired are you?"

Exhausted. But boosted too, and there was no way he'd be able to rest with all these questions and awful realizations in his head.

"I could be worse," he said, knowing his voice sounded awfully weak.

The girl frowned. And then, whatever it was, she made her decision.

"There's someone I think you should see in the war room. You'll thank me later."

And she rushed off, following the trail of wounded people going to the infirmary.

"Excuse me!" He heard her say. "Please, excuse me, my friend is there! My friend is there!"

Her friend. Judai tried not to choke on guilt again. It wasn't his fault, Sylvain had assured him, it wasn't. Yes it was, yes it was. Felix couldn't have known, he couldn't have! But he had been right, since the beginning. If only he had gone to Garreg Mach, then...

Then he would have been strong enough, earlier. He could have saved them all. Yubel's voice kept humming softly, comforting, reminding him that one couldn't change the past. That the guilt might stay, but it'd become something he could live with.

Aimless, he wandered, looking at the grand walls of the monastery. It truly was beautiful. He just wished he could have admired it without such a heavy mind and heart. He also... deeply wished he had thought of asking Hilda where that 'war room' was.

A hand fell on his shoulder, and a smooth voice smiled in his ear.

"Here, friend. You look lost, may I help you?"

Judai turned with a sigh of relief, only to stare in shock at the person touching him. It wasn't their breathtaking beauty or their delicately painted lips, smiling at him. It wasn't even the mischievous gleam in their eyes.

It was the ghost.

There was one ghost, behind that person. Not a blank shape like so many spirits tended to become after a while, but a recognizable shape, with features that you didn't have to focus on to distinguish.

Blue hair. Green eyes shining like jades. A gentle, brilliant smile that felt like the sun and a spike through the heart at the same time.

"Friend?"

Judai turned back towards the person, at loss for words. And the ghost again.

He felt cold. Overwhelmed. No. No, that wasn't.... No. It couldn't be... It couldn't... No, no, no no no no no no no no no....

Yubel's voice hissed and mechanically, he answered.

"I'm okay."

He wasn't. He wasn't. He wasn't okay at all. His eyes couldn't even stay on the one who was now looking at him with barely hidden worry. He couldn't stop staring.

Staring at his best friend's ghost, smiling at him.

Yubel, blessed Yubel, threw themselves at the shape, an invisible force that only Judai could see, rushing towards the one currently unwillingly hurting their love.

" _What are you doing here?_ " they said in anger. " _That wasn't what we promised, Andersen. What are you doing like that?_ "

Johan Andersen winced, but his smile didn't leave his ghostly face.

" _I'm sorry,_ " he said, and it sounded genuine, " _and I hope we have more time to discuss things later. But there are more pressing matters._ "

Yubel spared a glance towards the person who still had their hand on Judai's shoulder.

" _Did this one kill you?_ " they hissed.

" _No, nothing like that Yubel, don’t worry._ "

" _Then why are you anchored to him?_ "

Johan laughed, self-deprecating.

" _It's a long story. But he is my legacy._ "

He turned back to Judai, who was shaking. He could feel it. His legs felt barely able to carry him.

" _Judai,_ " Johan said softly, " _go to the war room. Cichol is there._ "

Cichol.

Cichol was there.

Judai exhaled and, painfully, tore his eyes from one of the most precious people he ever had in his life.

"The war room," he tried saying to the one human by his side, "I need to go there."

The one in front of him seemed to understand. A frown marring his beautiful features, he flicked his lavender hair back behind his shoulder and took back his hand.

"The meeting won’t happen there."

"It doesn't matter. I need to talk to..."

He didn't say Cichol's name. Whoever he was, the man seemed to understand. He still worried, though.

"You seem about to fall over. Are you sure this can't wait."

"It can't. I'll be fine. Just... a vertigo."

If seeing the ghost of a person you loved more than you ever loved yourself could be called that.

The man explained slowly how to get to the room. And Judai had the feeling he was going to make sure he made it instead of falling in the stairs.

He couldn't blame him.

He was pretty sure he only managed to reach the room through Yubel's force of will. Their will, carrying him when his legs felt too fragile. Their arms holding him together as he felt like crumbling. His eyes were burning. There was a sob trying to shake his body. Forgotten the happiness of shadows, forgotten the horror of the Light’s attack and its consequences.

He couldn't believe it.

He inhaled in front of the room, pushing the doors open. Only one man stood inside. A green-haired man with a small beard and a refined appearance, elegant clothes and composed attitude.

He raised his head with a sigh.

"I know, Claude, we need to..."

He stopped in the middle of his sentence, the moment his eyes fell on Judai.

Time stopped.

Judai froze after a few steps, taking the man in.

With a sharp intake of breath, Cichol stood up, feverishly, rushing to him. He put a shaking hand to his face.

"This... This cannot be..." he started.

Judai inhaled.

"Cichol," he muttered.

And then, he punched him.

It was a weak punch. Not one meant to hurt. But he needed to hit something. And Cichol was here, and strong, and reliable and _hadn't been there when he woke up_. No one had been but an irate, feral man with inexistent ghosts keeping both of them awake.

"Cichol," he started again, snarling, "what the _fuck_ is going on?"

Cichol had barely moved. The punch, hitting his chest squarely, barely added new folded lines to his prim and proper attire.

"Oh, my old friend," he said, his voice full of pain, "how it pains me that you'd wake up to such a world."

Grief was a bane, ready to overtake him any second. He swallowed it down.

"What has happened. It's been months, you're the first one I've found, Johan is dead and you're..."

Weak.

For a man, Cichol certainly didn't seem weak. But Judai remembered him, so splendid, and strong. Not a warrior, by Nabateans standards, but strong enough that no normal human could hope to defeat him fairly.

Cichol right now was a human in his prime. Strong, but humanly so.

He was weak. Much weaker than Judai was right now, maybe even weaker than he had been before he reached Garreg Mach.

Fragile.

Judai felt his body shake again. Cichol led him to a chair. He fell on it rather than sat. Trembling. He couldn’t stay still. Everything in him was shivering.

And Cichol looked so sad.

"What happened," Judai repeated. His voice sounded rough, wounded.

"Oh, my old friend," Cichol muttered again.

The man took his head in his hands. Judai felt his heart sink. That was bad. Knowing it wasn’t the same as having the evidence, right in front of him.

"When you fell asleep," Cichol started, "Sothis healed the land. As she had promised she would."

He sighed.

"This was exhausting. Maybe not as much as defeating the Light was for you. But soon after, she fell asleep too."

None of that surprised him, but he could feel it in the way Cichol's body tensed, in how Judai's own heart was beating faster with anticipation, how he just knew the next words would probably be a stab to the chest.

"Do you remember the Agarthans, old friend?"

Judai nodded slowly. They had been a pain, ready to let their world die rather than let anyone that they felt didn't belong on it try to salvage it. No one had really given them much attention at that moment, saving the world was a more urgent matter than they had been.

Cichol inhaled. He lowered his eyes, unable to look at Judai.

"It was them. It was them who threw these Pillars of Light at the world. They’re the reason you were both so broken.”

Judai wished he could have been surprised. But it wasn’t all, no. He could feel it, see it in the whole world, he remembered, he had been there. Knowing who was responsible almost didn’t matter. It was what came next that did.

“And with their influence came bandits. Thieves. People with low morals but enough strength to do what they wanted. And as Sothis slumbered on her throne, one of them found her and..."

He closed his eyes and Judai felt like he was going to throw up.

"They killed her?" he mumbled in shock.

They killed the one who had saved their lands. He almost stood up here in horror, but Cichol's defeated glance stopped him in his tracks.

The death of the Progenitor God was only the beginning.

"Sothis is a Goddess," Cichol said, "even dead she's still here in a way or another. But that's not where they stopped."

The thief, Cichol explained then, Nemesis. He explained how that man entered the most sacred of places too, the canyon of Zanado where the Nabateans lived. He explained how he bore an impossible weapon, how, with that sword, the Sword of the Creator, there was nothing he couldn’t do. How he chose warriors, people he wanted to rally to his cause. And how, with these elite warriors...

He slayed them all.

The Nabateans, protectors of this land. Killed, one after the other. Their blood, flesh and bones were desecrated, used.

Only a few were were left. Four born Nabateans. Seiros, who saw her family destroyed. Macuil, Indech. Cichol.

And of Judai’s friends, only five.

“We don’t know what happened to Jim,” Cichol said with a trembling voice, “he left one day, wishing for a new start. We never heard of him again until a merchant bearing his crest started attending the monastery. It was the same for most of the others too… After Fubuki’s death, Asuka disappeared too. Tanya and Johan were the next ones. They scattered, we all did, scared that, were we to stay together, we’d be hunted down again. Then… their crests appeared again, too.”

“What happened to Fubuki?” Judai asked, barely hearing his own voice. “I felt him… In Ailell.”

“It was a long time ago,” Cichol admitted, closing his eyes in pain, “he came back often, they both did, him and Asuka. But one day, the Agarthans attacked us again. They threw a Pillar of Light, right at the monastery.”

His hand, holding Judai’s, was terribly painful.

“Sothis protects us even now. This place cannot be hit by the Light. The attack bounced back, the pillar flew away, up north. When he saw that, Fubuki… Fubuki feared it’d fall onto a town, killing everyone around it.”

His fingers held Judai’s even tighter than before.

“He flew away there, trying to lead the pillar away. Thanks to his intervention, they both crashed onto the forest of Ailell, where the Agarthans shot again. And again.”

Judai whimpered in horror. His own hold on Cichol’s hand felt weak, far too weak for that conversation. His other hand was holding the table, he feared it would splinter.

“I am so sorry, my friend,” Cichol mumbled, “Until a few years ago I had hoped that Johan, at least, would have been here to welcome you. But when his crest, the lost crest of Aubin, appeared in Garreg Mach, I knew it wouldn’t be”

Judai looked at his own fingers, clutched around the table. Bile rose to his throat once again when he remembered what Cichol said had been done to the Nabateans’ bodies...

"The crests," he mumbled, "and the relics."

"The blood," Cichol admitted, "and the bones."

A sob tore through Judai's throat.

"You mean that Fodlan is worshipping the desecrated bodies of our families, and that their nobility is only composed of those descending from their killers."

Cichol nodded, eyes downcast. Judai tried to calm down his breathing. Yubel was humming, comfort and grief both present in their tone.

"What were you thinking?" he asked slowly.

"We were thinking that we wanted to protect the few of us left."

There was so much pain in Cichol's voice, Judai could only believe him.

"Seiros, mostly, took the reins. She told History so those who killed our people were seen as heroes, so that crests would be seen as blessings. So that no one would try to hunt those who bore them."

Judai bit his trembling lips, trying to hold on for just a little longer.

"I only learnt of this recently, but for centuries, she tried to bring back Sothis. We had her heart, her bones, and as much power as we could muster. If she could bring back her soul, somehow she felt like we could handle the grief better, and help the world heal better."

He sighed slowly.

"It never worked. She even asked your friends for help, at the time. The results were a catastrophe. It made them swear they'd never transmit their powers to anyone."

"The apostles," Judai said numbly.

"Yes. They chose to change their names, of course."

"Jim's book."

"It was lost during the attack. Never finished. And with O’Brien’s death, he did not have the heart to start over. But they kept the names, as a reminder."

Using the heroes' names as a legacy, leaving their identity anonymous except for their loved ones.

Judai always knew his friends were smarter than he was.

"But they did transmit their powers. Their crest."

"It was a surprise to all of us. After all, they were not pure Nabateans. The only way they could give it was..."

Judai inhaled slowly. Exhaled. Swallowed the tears that managed to break through his defences.

"To die," he said, "they chose to give their powers to others. And so they lost immortality and passed on."

Fubuki had probably done so before being slayed by the Pillars, he figured. And that man, with Johan's ghost. He was whoever Johan had given his powers to...

"Seiros never gave up", Cichol added with a grief-laden voice, "even after Macuil left, bitter and enraged at those who had taken everything from him. Even after Indech did the same, too tired to keep going, simply wishing to retreat in solitude for the rest of his existence. After a while, once my daughter woke up, I came back to her, hoping I'd be her anchor"

“Your daughter?”

Cichol had a daughter. He didn’t have one the last time Judai had known him… And she had been sleeping? Had she been wounded like Judai? Had she overworked herself like Sothis?

How long had she been sleeping, for Cichol to have stayed away from his little sister for so long?

Cichol brought his hands together, staring at his thumbs.

"Cethleann hasn't been awake for long. Only a few years in fact. I hope you'll meet her. She's... You two... Right now, you're..."

He swallowed. It almost sounded like a sob.

"Right now, you're all I have," he whispered.

And Judai broke here and there.

Sobs overtook him and he hid his face in his hands, weeping like he had wanted to since he woke up and saw his world turned upside down. Since he realized his friends, who had promised, they had _promised_ they'd be here with him, since he realized they hadn't kept their word. Because they couldn't. Because they weren't here anymore. Because he was alone, in a place where their dead bodies were seen as holy weapons, and the sons and daughters of their killers ruled the world. Where an Emperor had decided to wage a war against what little he had left for reasons that, no matter what they were, could never be justification for causing such misery.

He weeped.

And cried.

And bit his palms to stop himself from screaming.

It hurt. It hurt more than all the wounds that couldn't kill him. It hurt more than fusing his soul had.

It was excruciating. Like someone had come and started to delicately rip his still beating heart from his chest, one chunk of muscle after the other.

Cichol's arms around him held him steady, rocking him like you rocked a child. Cichol was a father, yet Judai had never met his daughter. Cichol was a father. He knew how to comfort children.

Good.

Judai didn't feel like an old god right now. He felt like a child.

He hid his face in the man's shoulder and screamed.

He screamed and wailed and clutched Cichol's perfect clothes until it hurt or he ripped part of it. Maybe both.

When he came to, his throat hurt, so did his eyes and his chest. He felt exhausted. Cichol was still holding him, his chin resting on Judai's head. When was the last time someone had held him? Someone he actually knew? Someone that didn't have Yubel's intangible arms, as comforting as they were most of the time.

Yubel hummed in his ear. No offense taken.

"I'm okay," he mumbled.

"You're not", Cichol answered gently, "none of us is. And it's been much longer for us."

"What other things did Seiros try?"

"Experiments. Homunculi. She created life, gave them her blood, tried to give them Sothis' heart."

He sighed again.

"It failed. Until... Well, I'm still not sure it actually worked but..."

His hand patted Judai's back, gentle but awkward.

"I'll... introduce you to our dear teacher. I think you'll understand what I mean."

Judai nodded.

"Later. I'm..."

"I'll prepare you a room. I don't think lady Rhea would mind you being in her rooms."

He had heard that name a few times...

"The archbishop?"

"Yes. That’s the name Seiros chose, recently."

"Oh."

That explained things.

"I'm known as Seteth, here. And Cethleann is known as Flayn."

Seteth. Flayn. They had to erase their own identity to survive. Judai felt ill once again. He tried to breathe. It felt frozen in his mouth, but he had one more question to ask.

"Why did you erase my name from History?"

There was a pause. Judai hoped he hadn't sounded accusing.

"That might be selfish of us, but... When you woke up, we wanted you to be able to start again. With the way the world was going, the only way it could have remembered you was..."

As a villain.

"I was a villain," Judai reminded him slowly, standing up, "There's no reason for me to not be remembered as one."

Cichol's face fell. Judai wiped his tears, hoping he wouldn't start sobbing again immediately. The guilt choking his heart and throat would probably never leave him, and he knew all his loved ones had hated that. But it was as it was.

"I'm... grateful you did that for me," he added afterwards, "If only because I would not have wished for those seeking to destroy us to use me as inspiration."

Cichol cringed, a form of disgust twisting his face. He nodded, clearly agreeing. When Judai stood, he followed, arms ready to catch him should he fall.

"I'll show you to your rooms," he said kindly.

"Do you... Do you think you could send him to me? Johan's heir. I saw him earlier, he gave me directions..."

Cichol looked at him, surprised.

"How did you... Nevermind. I will."

"What's his name?"

"Yuri Leclair. He is a cheeky and mischievous one. You'll probably like him."

Judai snorted. It still felt like a sob. His eyes looked at Cichol. And he took it in. His friend's presence. It had been so long.

Somehow, for once, being known was the most comforting thing he could think of.

"Thank you," he said with sincerity, "thank you Seteth."

Seteth smiled at him.

"It's the least I can do."

Yuri Leclair was already sitting on a chair when he arrived. Judai smiled at him, hoping he wouldn't scare him, with how he had acted last time they had met.

"Hello again," he said.

"Hello," the man answered, "I hear you wished to see me?"

A small, almost amused smile was on his face. Behind him, Johan was looking at Judai with trepidation and barely contained joy.

"I did," Judai confirmed, "I needed to apologize for my attitude, earlier."

Yuri tilted his face, curiosity shining in his eyes.

"I've seen weirder reactions. More visceral ones too. We're in a war after all."

"Probably no weirder than what I'm about to ask of you."

"Which is?"

Judai turned his eyes to Johan and tried to smile. He thought it probably looked more like a pained expression, but Johan was smiling back, so it was better than nothing.

"Do you think you could wait a bit outside, I need to speak with the ghost haunting you."

Yuri's eyes widened and he tensed up, maybe because of disbelief, maybe for other reasons. Judai didn't know and didn't need to know. He winced at him.

"Don't worry. I know him, whatever happened, there was nothing you could have done. I guess... I'll explain later."

Yuri looked at him as if he was insane. But despite frowning a few times as if about to say something, he ended up simply nodding and went out, walking in Seiros' garden, sitting near the pretty ponds that had probably been renovated in the last few months.

Judai turned to Johan.

"Johan," he greeted him with a tremble in his voice, "it's been a while."

 _"It has been,"_ his old friend laughed, _"I'm so glad to see you. I thought I'd have to haunt this land for much longer before I could make sure you were fine."_

Judai hummed slowly, feeling a smile creeping up on his lips despite his wishes.

"Are you the only one?" he said. "Did the others stay too?"

_"Judai, you know very well we don't have as much influence on these things as we wish we did."_

He knew indeed. Ghosts could not haunt a land forever, even if their reason to stay was never resolved. They lost their will, slowly, sooner or later. No one had heard of a ghost holding on for more than a century. If it did, it was nothing like it used to, or it had turned into a spirit, probably. At least that was what Judai believed became of them.

"You waited a long time," Judai mumbled, "I'm sorry."

_"Do not apologize. I would have waited forever for you."_

But he didn't. Judai didn't know how to say it without it sounding like an accusation. Fortunately, Johan seemed to know what was on his mind, as always.

The ghost sat besides him, without touching the bed. He was smiling, but his expression was sad, full of melancholy. His eyes turned to Yuri, apparently daydreaming in the sunlight, near the ponds.

 _"It was around twenty years ago,"_ he said, _"I was... exhausted. And sick. And wounded."_

He sighed.

_"I... don't know how much we can survive to be honest. I took pretty good care of myself for most of my long, long lifetime. But I didn't know if I'd survive that one."_

He pointed to Yuri.

_"His mother. She's the one who saved me."_

Judai shivered. He could almost guess what was coming next.

 _"Not long after,"_ Johan hummed, _"I'm saying a few months give or take, there was this plague. It was... terrible..."_

Johan sighed again.

_"I didn't know it at the time, but it was only the beginning. This plague... It was a slaughter. So many people died. Some say half of Faerghus’ population was killed, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was true."_

He tilted his head.

 _"The only thing I knew back then,"_ he admitted, _"was that her kid was dying."_

"You saved him."

_"Yes. I gave him my immortality."_

Judai closed his eyes, grief still strong, but tempered with understanding. His heart was heavy, but there was no way he could be angry.

_"I died weeks later, feeling my old body failing me. That woman, she was so nice. She and her son took care of me, until the end."_

His smile was radiant despite everything.

_"That's when I knew I had made the right choice, you know?"_

Judai smiled back. A tear had escaped him, but it was still sincere.

"That would be you," he said, "unable to be selfish."

Yubel snorted. They disagreed. He knew they only disagreed because that selflessness hurt him, and anything that hurt him was selfish. Johan smirked, hearing them despite everything.

_"Yubel is still overprotective."_

"They wouldn't be Yubel if they weren't," he answered fondly.

They looked at each other, basking in a presence made ephemeral.

"You waited so long," Judai mumbled, "and I can't blame you for stopping. And yet..."

His body shook again under the effort it took not to choke on the sobs wracking his frame. Dry sobs.

"I miss you," he admitted painfully, "I miss you so much. Why do _I_ have to be selfish?"

The tears refused to stop. He wiped at them angrily. Hadn't he cried enough with Cichol already? Enough. Enough of that.

_"Judai",_ Johan's ghost said softly in his ear, _"having feelings isn't selfish."_

__

Whether it was an authorization to break down again or not, that was what he did anyway. A few seconds later, alerted by the noise, Yuri Leclair ran to him, looking as if he hesitated to touch him, not sure if it'd be welcome, or if Judai was in his right mind.

__

Judai let the tears fall, more calmly than he had done in the war room. Johan smiled at him before standing up again, walking at his heir's side.

__

" _Please be nice to him,_ " he said with a laugh, " _he may look like nothing can hurt him, but he's had a hard life._ "

__

Judai swallowed back his sobs, wiped his tears again, and breathed heavily. Then he raised his head.

__

"I usually try to be nice," he mumbled, "I thought you had more faith in me."

__

Johan laughed. Yuri was looking at Judai as if he was insane, once again.

__

"Sorry," Judai told him, "this must seem really confusing."

__

"Yes," Yuri admitted bluntly.

__

And after a second.

__

"But it's not the first time."

__

" _Right,_ " Johan added, " _the teacher. Byleth. She's greeted me a few times. I think she believes me to be a student._ "

__

So the teacher Seteth mentioned saw ghosts too. She was getting more and more mysterious that one. He'd look for her as soon as possible tomorrow. But this wasn't the time.

__

"So sorry," Judai apologized again, "I will explain in a second, promise. But first things first, let's start again."

__

He reached out with his hand, hoping his smile wasn't shaking too much.

__

"Hello," he said, "my name is Judai Yuki. It's nice to meet you, Yuri."

__

__

__

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!"

__

Sunlight, more than the noise, was what woke Judai up. He tried to blink the sleep away, heavy yawning and all, and met a familiar face. Dark hair and green eyes, a mischievous smile on his lips... They had only met once, but Claude von Riegan sure knew how to leave an impression.

__

"Hey," he answered, wiping his eyes, "did I miss something?"

__

"Oh, no, don't worry," the Alliance's leader told him, "I might have been offended that you didn't come to say Hi, but both Hilda and Yuri assured me that you had more urgent business to attend and I trust them."

__

Right. Hilda. She was the first one to tell him to go to the war room, wasn't she? Did she know about Cichol? She hadn't left him time to interrogate her, with how she had then hurried to find...

__

He gulped.

__

"Is... Is Felix awake?" he asked.

__

"Not yet," Claude's tone became somber, "Marianne says he's out of the woods, though."

__

The way he looked at Judai said a lot.

__

"No one told us what happened exactly, but people talk, here. I might have to ask you which rumor is true."

__

"Can it wait?" Judai mumbled. "I don't exactly want to think about it right now..."

__

"Sure. The world moves on after all, can't stay stuck in place. I woke you up because there's a meeting about to start."

__

And he wanted him to assist. Judai groaned. Right, he was still, technically, one of the heads of the Kingdom army. Or not? He sure hoped not, not anymore. That didn't mean he was exempt, though.

__

"Right... How long do I have?"

__

"Oh, take your time. As long as you're there before the end."

__

"What?"

__

"According to Yuri, you were pretty shaken up yesterday, I'm not going to force you into a room with angry and petty lords arguing over terms to form an alliance, that'd be the perfect recipe for an explosion. No, I need you for something else. So anyway, I'm going to be late if I stay here longer. See you soon!"

__

His step was light as he left and Judai stared at his back, unsure how much of it was real and how much was a mask of confidence. It seemed natural enough, but he knew from experience just how easy it was to fake a smile when you'd been doing it for a while. But Judai had thought so himself, hadn't he? You needed to smile, to give the men confidence? Maybe that was what it was...

__

He took his time, just as Claude had told him to. A kind and shy woman with blue hair (Yubel didn't say a word thank goodness.) saw him on the way and asked him if he had eaten, rushing away to find him a plate of pastries when he admitted that he hadn't. It felt like a cold morning, the kind where you lit a fire and drank warm tea, watching the sun rise. Spring was already well on its way, the harsh snows of Fraldarius a simple memory. It was strangely peaceful...

__

As he walked towards the war room once again, Judai started having the feeling Claude had asked him to join them mostly so he could question him afterwards. He didn't know how much Seteth would want him to reveal, he wasn't sure how much he himself was ready to reveal. The only thing he knew was that he wouldn't lie. He had never had any talent for hiding anything other than his own feelings after all, so it wasn't like it would be expected of him anyway.

__

The meeting was already almost finished when he came in discretely, slipping into the room amid the arguing and debating. There were lords he remembered seeing in the Kingdom's army, though Rodrigue tended to keep them far from the decision table for some reason (he remembered paranoid words after Gronder and figured he knew the reason, after all). Among them, a tall man with long red hair was talking passionately and earnestly. Judai didn't remember ever meeting him, an Alliance general probably?

__

"That should be our next expedition!" he was arguing. "We kept postponing it due to our small numbers, but now we actually have enough people to take the bastion without risking our position on Myrddin bridge!"

__

A lot of people were grim-faced in front of his declaration. It was easy to understand why. The last battle had taken a lot out of everyone. The Alliance had cut their losses quickly enough to not suffer too much but the Kingdom was in disarray. Judai was pretty sure the added numbers were still barely closer to the Empire's. From what he had seen and guessed, Claude was a good tactician who could work with small strike forces, but in the current state of affairs, sending Kingdom men on a mission would be a damning faux-pas for him. Clearly, even if they had managed to work out the terms of an alliance while Judai was eating pastries, it was still shaky...

__

On the other side of the table, Claude looked deep in thought, but neutral enough that he didn't seem to be taking one side or the other. He was thinking. There was apparently something in that bastion the man had been talking about that was worth Claude actually thinking of taking it. Judai tried to get a look at the map. Was it well placed? Strategically speaking...

__

"His Highness should be there," the Governor of Itha groaned, from the chair he was sitting on, "we can't reach such a decision with only one leader here."

__

Indeed, Judai noticed, not knowing if he was disappointed or relieved, Dimitri wasn't here. A young but statuesque woman stepped forward and... was that Sothis?

__

Judai froze, mouth open.

__

No, that wasn't Sothis.

__

That was a stone faced woman, not the childish looking facetious Progenitor God he had known. Her voice was clear and sharp, though, with definitive authority.

__

She felt like Sothis.

__

Judai had barely the time to think that this must have been the professor Cichol - Seteth - had been talking about before he felt overwhelmed once again.

__

Sothis.

__

Whoever that person was, she had Sothis' powers and presence. But human. So human, so less powerful. Just like Seteth had been so human and so less powerful. How much had time taken from his loved ones?

__

He inhaled, forcing himself to focus on what the woman was saying.

__

"... in mourning right now. According to him, he made too many bad decisions when blinded by grief. He refuses to make the same mistakes and kindly asked both Sir Gilbert and I to represent him today."

__

It took him a second to realize that she was speaking about Dimitri. So he really had learnt, Judai realized with relief, though it was quite the surprise he had asked that woman and not Judai (“ _We should not have made you fight_ ” … No, maybe it wasn’t that surprising in the end…) to represent him. With the tragic events on the way back, and then his meeting with Johan's ghost and Cichol, Judai hadn't checked on the prince. He had hoped, for sure, that Felix’s almost death in his arms hadn’t set him back, but hearing it confirmed was deeply reassuring.

__

Felix wasn't there either. Of course. Even if he had woken up since the moment Claude had seen him, he wouldn't have been cleared to participate. It was a relief in some way, Judai wasn't sure he could look at him without bursting into tears.

__

The red haired man was speaking again.

__

"We don't need too many men. However, leading this attack in parallel with the secret strike force in Merceus could make the Empire believe that the bastion is our next target."

__

"They won't believe it!" A Kingdom general said. "There is nothing of interest in that bastion that would deserve such attention from us."

__

"Yes there is."

__

Claude's voice commanded attention effortlessly. Judai jumped, eyes wide and curious.

__

"The princesse of Brigid," the Alliance leader said slowly, "she's been held hostage in the Empire for most of her life. Her being there forces Brigid to lend their forces to the Empire's conquests. If we rescue her, we get Brigid out of the way."

__

"The Empire and Brigid are allies, this will be seen as kidnapping."

__

"Better than an accidental murder," Claude argued, "we don't want to make more enemies than necessary. If we make sure to keep the princess alive, brokering peace with Brigid will be much easier."

__

"Von Aegir is an Empire man and these are his lands," another one of the Kingdom lords Rodrigue usually kept out of the table said pointing at the red haired man, "how do we know this is not a ploy?"

__

Claude stood up firmly. His voice stayed calm, but his eyes were murderous.

__

"Ferdinand has left the Empire as soon as the war started," he said, "he has been in my service for the last five years and we owe many of our victories to him. You'd do well to remember that."

__

And Judai could see Ferdinand (since that seemed to be his name) preen under the praise, as if he'd been cowering in self doubt one second earlier. Judai wondered how many jeers and insults he had to suffer through because of his origins. It was a good thing his leader had his back.

__

"No one in the Kingdom will fight under an Empire commander."

__

"No one, really?"

__

Claude smirked and turned to the professor. She tilted her head in agreement and stared at Judai's side of the room. Right by his side, a blonde girl he knew but hadn't noticed was near him.

__

Ingrid. Ingrid had been right by his side and he hadn't even noticed her, just how distracted was he? Well, not like she seemed to have noticed him either.

__

"Lady Galatea," the professor said softly, "you must know more than anyone how much Brigid's situation is a sword under both the country and its princess’ throat. If Brigid obeys, the princess is safe. If Petra obeys, her country won't suffer the Empire's wrath. They can't fight back. But kidnapping the princess not only makes the hostage situation disappear, it does so without any fault falling on anyone. The Emperor can't in good faith attack Brigid if its princess clearly didn't mean to be rescued."

__

Ingrid inhaled sharply. Her hands were trembling.

__

“Apparently, she caused quite a scene after Gronder,” Claude added, humming, “she had been sent to guard the ballista and didn’t take lightly to the Empire setting fire to their own people. As such, she was sent right back into seclusion in the bastion. From what our spies told us, Dorothea Arnault, who had stayed far from the battlefield until then, refused to be separated from her.”

__

Another sharp inhale and Judai almost thought Ingrid would choke. She glared at Claude, as if he were a despicable man, then bowed.

__

"I can vouch for Petra- the princess' good will," she said with a shaky voice, "if His Highness will allow it, I would co-lead the expedition with Ferdinand. Seeing commanders from both the Alliance and the Kingdom could indeed distract the Emperor's troops from Merceus as it would look like a larger attack than what it would really be."

__

"Perfect," Claude said happily, "now we only need to ask Dimitri his opinion and put the finishing touches on the way we'll approach Fort Merceus. For now, let's take a break."

__

The people left, some slower than others. Most people talked between them, either showing annoyance and anger or eagerness and relief, looked like there'd be no in-between. Ingrid saw him and nodded at him with a small, relieved smile. Then, she hesitated. She nodded at Claude too, a small gesture of respect, before leaving. Claude grinned at that but didn't laugh.

__

"She'll warm up to me one day," he said with a wink.

__

"I think she's just jealous of your friendship with Felix," Judai admitted.

__

"Oh, it's a lot more complicated than simple jealousy I think. But enough talk about that, let's talk about you."

__

There it was coming, the interrogation. Judai had been preparing himself, but he honestly wasn't sure he would be able to speak. It was still a lot to take in and the pure _fury_ he was starting to feel everytime he remembered that _his friends were dead_ and that _their killers were seen as heroes_ and that that damn _Emperor_ was trying to _take the few he had left_ and... Yeah let's not keep going on that path, his eyes were burning, almost glowing gold just at these thoughts. Nonetheless, he wasn't sure he was in the right state of mind to answer questions right now. But he had to, didn't he?

__

"So, fishing, hunting, disblaying, rebuilding, cooking, taking care of animals, all that jazz, what are you good at?"

__

Judai's brain froze right in the middle of his thoughts.

__

"Excuse me, what?"

__

"Chores," Claude explained as if it was obvious, "since you went to sleep early yesterday, we didn't get to put you on the roster. So I need to know what you can do so I can add you there."

__

Chores?

__

"Chores..." Judai mumbled numbly. "Yes. I can do chores. I just... didn't expect that."

__

"Well everyone has to do their part of work." Claude winked. "Even I usually spend most evenings taking care of the wyverns, patrolling or even cleaning the grounds."

__

He was saying it happily, and somehow Judai didn't feel like _that_ smile was fake. He could actually believe that the man found the simplicity of chores needing to be done relaxing when compared to the war he had been fighting for years.

__

Judai had been there for a few months at most and he already felt mentally exhausted.

__

"I guess. But I thought you had called me here for... something else?"

__

"I kind of wish I did," Claude answered with good humour, "but that kind of story takes time, don't you agree? And unfortunately, right now, I don't have any time. I need to check on Felix, make sure Dimitri is alright, get Hilda's reports, organize patrols, and I'm going to stop there or that list will go on and on and that's just the next hour’s planning. Just page me in a few days, when there’ll be less work to deal with, or whenever you feel ready. I'll try to find some hours at night to hear it."

__

... All that work did sound like Judai just two days ago, indeed, now that he thought about it. Leading an army really was one hell of a job...

__

"Okay, thank you," he said sincerely, "but huh... I hate to ask that of you when you're already giving me so much but... I need to ask you a favour..."

__

Oooh there it was, Judai was feeling choked up just thinking about it.

__

"Can't promise anything but go ahead."

__

"Do not put me in charge of troops. Any troops."

__

Claude looked at him with a weird smile, considering, almost. Instead of promising or anything Judai really wanted him to say, he answered with a question.

__

"Did the Kingdom put you in charge?"

__

Judai nodded mutely.

__

"When... When Lord Fraldarius..."

__

His words stayed stuck inside his throat, so he inhaled slowly, not finishing his sentence. He avoided Claude's eyes, worried about what he would see there. Judgement would have been preferable to worry, after all.

__

"Dimitri wasn't... stable. And Gilbert needed to leave to get to your camp. So he put me in charge."

__

The bitter taste in Judai's mouth refused to leave him. Fortunately, Claude seemed to follow his thoughts.

__

"Now, why would they do that?" he asked with his usual easy smile.

__

The answer was as simple as it was terrible.

__

"They think I'm holy."

__

"Are you not?"

__

"Whether I am or not, someone like me should never be left in charge of an army."

__

Claude hummed, his fingers drumming on the papers on the table (was that... drawings alongside writings? was the Alliance leader doodling on his notes during meetings?).

__

"Did you do a bad job?"

__

"I don't know."

__

"Then are you sure it's not Impostor Syndrome speaking?"

__

Judai almost laughed. The situation could have been funny, in truth, if it wasn't so damn awful. He almost laughed, but his eyes were deadly serious when he stared at Claude.

__

"Claude," he said calmly, "I once conquered this whole land in a matter of a month."

__

Claude's eyebrows shot up, but Judai didn't let him time to think about it more.

__

"And I didn't stop at Fodlan. Obsessed as I was with never letting anyone take anything from me again, I kept going and going and I thought I was justified. I waged war and ruin, refusing to stop, killing all that were brave enough to fight me. The only difference between the Emperor and me is that I one day woke up, horrified at my actions. And the truth is that when I did all that, I was dominated by rage and pain. And right now? I am too. Once more."

__

His eyes stayed on Claude's as he repeated, slowly.

__

"Do not ever let me in charge of an army. I refuse to turn into that kind of monster again."

__

Claude's smile hadn't faltered. He was listening, serenely, as if Judai wasn't telling him anything new. If anything, actually, there was a glint of _something_ in his eyes that Judai couldn't figure it out. His fingers had stopped tapping the table.

__

"I appreciate the warning," he said, "unnecessary as it was."

__

"Unnecessary?"

__

"Supreme King," Claude said and Judai simply froze hearing these words, "I do not think any of us could stop you if you chose to take men with you and wage war again."

__

"How do you..."

__

"I do, however, like the fact that you want to avoid that temptation as much as possible. Do not worry, I had never intended to put you in charge of troops. And even if I had, you are seen as part of the Kingdom. Dimitri would get the last word, and he was pretty clear in that you would have to be the one to make that choice."

__

Despite the confusion and fear in his heart as _how_ exactly Claude knew of his old title (did Cichol tell him? No, that didn't make sense... But then what...), there was definite relief rolling down his back as he heard these words. He could almost feel himself deflate, exhaling a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Unconcerned, Claude took his papers and gave them a barely interested glance.

__

"Anyway, back on topic. You haven't answered me. To what chore can I assign you today? We're going to need food with all the new arrivals, so hunting, gardening and fishing would be optimal."

__

"Fishing," Judai said with barely any emotion, "I'm... I like fishing."

__

"Fishing it is, then!" Claude winked at him. "You should go to the pond whenever you're ready, that's where Teach was headed too, she'll show you where the rods are."

__

__

The fish pond was on the other side of the monastery. It was probably a good thing, Judai really needed to clear his head. His mind was still a bit lost and scared, his heart still filled with anger. It was cold and frightening, far too similar to what had happened the _last time_ he had lost everything. Yubel's presence was an anchor, but their own rage and anguish were also a weight added to his resolve. He wasn't sure what was keeping him together. His worry, probably, for all the people who needed him, now?

__

Fishing was good. It had always been good when it came to feel better. So many of his friends had been confused at his love for it, it didn't suit a 'ball of enthusiasm' like him they thought, such a patient, solitary sport... But he had enjoyed it, he still did, and he was pretty good at it. It would feed the troops too, an opportunity to join useful and enjoyable. That'd be perfect, right?

__

Byleth Eisner's bright green hair welcomed him the moment he reached the pond. It was a pretty place, had clearly been prioritised when the people here had started rebuilding it. He could also see the greenhouse on the side, virtually untouched. He wondered how the plants there fared...

__

Professor Eisner nodded at him when he found himself at her side.

__

"The rods are there," she gestured at some kind of small hut near the pond, "you should find what you need."

__

No questions asked, despite them being the only ones there. Seeing how many fishes she already had, it wasn't surprising that she'd be alone. Looked like the teacher everyone loved so much was a proficient fisherwoman...

__

"Claude didn't ask you your whole life story," she added when he joined her with a wooden rod, "or you wouldn't be there yet."

__

"He didn't."

__

Her lips twitched, amusement and oh Gods she felt like Sothis. Amused, teasing, but none of it mean.

__

"I'm proud of his self-restraint. That boy's curiosity is one of the world's greatest powers, but it can also make him tactless at times."

__

He could believe that. He definitely could. Both of these claims.

__

"He said to call him when I'd be ready to talk about it," and just like Sothis she felt safe, like he could tell her anything, "I've already told him more than I expected."

__

She hummed, eyes on her fishing line.

__

"He is curious," she said, "but not cruel. And he's matured a lot in five years. Once upon a time, he got mad at me when he thought I was hiding something from him."

__

"Did he now?"

__

"He did," she was smiling again, "he pretended he wasn’t but it was still obvious. I didn't like it. So the next time something unexplainable happened to me, I told him everything I knew. And you know what he did in return?"

__

"No."

__

"He didn't tell me his own secrets. That little jerk."

__

It was there again, the amusement. Judai laughed softly and started putting the bait on his rod.

__

" _He's secretive,_ " Yubel said, pensive, " _but he doesn't seem like a bad person._ "

__

"He's not," the professor answered without blinking, "he has one of the kindest hearts I've ever seen. Sometimes I can't believe he tried to make me believe he was 'shiftiness incarnate'..."

__

Did she just... Right, Johan did say that she had seen him, right? Well, still. Yubel wasn't just a human ghost, they were a purple demonic-looking figure who happened to tower over everyone else here. Still, professor Eisner hadn't even looked surprised at seeing them, to the point Judai had assumed she couldn’t do so. He almost laughed. Not easily fazed, was she?

__

"You sound like a parent who has a favourite child," he said as he threw his line in the water.

__

"I'm not their professor anymore despite what they'll say," the woman smiled, "I can admit that I have a favourite student. And can you blame me? The world becomes more beautiful when he smiles."

__

Judai snorted. Byleth stayed silent for a few more seconds. Judai had the feeling she was tempted to leave it that way, to bask into the comfortable silence around them and just fish. But then she tilted her head.

__

"For the longest time," she admitted, "I didn't feel anything. Emotions are still pretty new to me, but I can pinpoint the first time I felt a prickle of it."

__

No emotion? Judai blinked, trying to figure out how it was possible.

__

"Seriously?"

__

"It was when I met him. All three of them, really. Claude, Dimitri... Edelgard..." That last name was so disappointed, like a disgruntled mother, Judai couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "They had been attacked by bandits. Because of their numbers, Claude had elected for a strategic retreat."

__

"Sounds smart."

__

"Would have been if Dimitri hadn't run after him."

__

Judai almost choked, feeling confused laughter in his throat. Byleth shrugged.

__

"He thought Claude was acting as a decoy and wanted to help. Edelgard apparently thought they were both idiots, but she followed them anyway. Not that it matters. What matters is that they roped us, my father's men and I, into a fight with these bandits."

__

"Sounds like it went well."

__

"Of course it did." She scoffed. "All three are exceptional warriors, and so am I. The Ashen Demon, they used to call me. And my father was legendary. But that little jerk, you know what he told me?"

__

"No?"

__

"He told me 'I'm good at tactics, but not that good at fighting, go easy on me, okay?' and then he proceeded to save my life twice."

__

Judai couldn't help the small laughter that escaped his throat.

__

"And he smiled, both times, as if it was nothing," Byleth said, "it was both infuriating and inspiring. When they asked me to teach one of the three classes, I just knew, even as I was speaking to everyone, that I would choose his. I've never regretted it. Never once. I don't think I could have been that open with anyone else."

__

"Sounds like you're close."

__

"We are," she nodded, "he is my favourite student and the only one I'd call my leader after all. But what I think I'm trying to say is... When he said he wasn't good, during that first battle, my biggest shock was to realize that he meant it. I'm not sure where or how he was raised, but he actually didn't think he was a good fighter."

__

She pulled. A fat fish was flapping at the end of the rod. A good catch.

__

"Honesty can come from the most unexpected places," she mused, "out of all the things he had said this day, I did not expect that obvious lie to have actually been sincere. Maybe that's why it was so easy with him."

__

Secrets close to his chest, his only admittance something he perceived as a weakness. Judai nodded. Yes, he understood. He didn't know how Dimitri was back then, but he understood the appeal, the draw to someone who clearly knew the weight of secrets.

__

"You wouldn't have trusted anyone else with the whole truth," he said slowly, "because you didn't trust anyone else to know the importance of keeping your secrets."

__

She smiled again, softly.

__

"And that's why, whatever it is he discovered about you that you're so scared about, you should calm down. He's not going to tell anyone."

__

Judai shivered. Ah. Of course that conversation had been for his benefit. He scooted closer to her, feeling warm, more relieved than he wanted to admit. She was just like Sothis, he thought again, she felt _safe_.

__

"Thank you," he said.

__

She just nodded at him. They spent the morning fishing, in silence.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my reader who had guessed that Yuri's crest was Johan's... how does it feel to be right?  
> A surprisingly high amount of ideas, when it came to that twist, came from Yuri's backstory and his ending with male Byleth, where it's mentioned that the pair was 'uniquely long-lived' and their beauty 'untouched by age' or something like that, giving me, along with the way Yuri got his crest, the feeling that both of them were kind of immortal (in the 'eternally young' sense), and also that he had gotten his crest straight from a Nabatean contrary to basically everyone else but Jeralt - who was also kind of explicitly eternally young. The brain bunnies had fun with these ones...  
> The thing about Claude saving Byleth twice is a result of my first playthrough, where I knew I would pick him and so made sure to have him get the most levels-up in the prologue so I wouldn't waste exp (old FE habits, when every bit of exp was precious). He actually does say that he's not a good fighter when you speak to him, which I find hysterical seeing how he's a one-man army in his own right.  
> Still about Claude, sometimes I find things I wrote months ago and wonder if something I posted recently was a call-back to it or if it was unintentional. Case in point, that whole funny scene about kneeling in chapter 25, when around 10 chapters earlier, Hilda muses that Ferdinand was probably the first person to kneel in front of Claude. Which might be one of the reasons he's so protective of Ferdinand in this chapter, if it actually was intentional xD It's been too long since I wrote all of these so I'm sincerely not sure it was, but noticing it was fun, I might need to reread my own fic to see if I have others like that!  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, especially with how dear it is to my heart. See you next time with... well, more tears. After all, with all that happened, I think the characters all deserve some time to cry in peace.


	29. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felix feels too much and not enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn for all the love I have for all these chapters, I won't be sad to slow down my rhythm after the next one! But in any case, welcome back! In this chapter you'll discover where I stand in the most important of all FE debates. And by that I of course mean the Dimitri-nickname debate, where one decides which one, between Dima and Mitya, sounds better! Well, it's a matter of taste so to each their own, but in any case I made my choice ;)  
> Let's stay positive as long as we can, this chapter has another of the very first scenes I wrote, I wrote it back when I was writing chapter 6 in fact! I hope you'll like that little callback to an old discussion these two characters had together :)  
> Now that that's said, welcome back to self-loathing land where we get to see Felix's point of view on what happened to him when the Light possessed him. It's not extremely long or explicit but still, as can be expected, **content warning** for disturbing imagery. Proceed with caution. I am very bad at determining when a warning is necessary and when it isn't so in doubt, I warn x)

**Chapter 28**

_I’m still comparing your past to my future_

_It might be your wound, but they’re my sutures_

_I am the sand in the bottom half of the hourglass_

_I try to picture me without you, but I can’t_

First, everything burned. There was no other word to explain how boiling hot his blood felt, burning like scathing fire, ravaging everything inside of him. It wasn’t the way he burnt in battle, not that almost pleasant flame that had him asking for more. No, not this one. This one had been sheer _agony_. Agony tearing through him and then lightning. A lightning of cold pain, right through his mind and he started burning, burning, not for anything, just burning. Fire, pain, something getting him and taking, all that he was, pushing through every desperate defense, ripping apart all of his armors, leaving him helpless and vulnerable, prone for the taking.

Pain, pain, fire and lighting, roaring inside of him in joy and anger as he felt his all screaming in anguish. It wanted him to destroy, it fed on his hurt and pain, forcing him to stay put like hands holding him down, forcefully. It told him to hurt and to kill and destroy and it moved him along, barely a living being, hardly more than a doll to play with.

And then, a string was cut.

Everything was still blurry around him, like in the middle of steaming hot water, stopping him from breathing, drowning and burning at the same time. But he saw one thing.

He saw a sword, locked against Dimitri’s Areadbhar. Fighting him.

He heard voices, screaming around him, words he couldn’t recognize. But he ignored them, because someone was fighting the Boar, the Boar whose eye was wide open, as if surprised or in shock, and he needed Felix to defend him. No matter the pain, no matter the agony, he needed to protect him.

He stepped back and the sword stepped back with him. Suddenly, there was panic in his mind, alongside the lightning pain, panic and screaming, someone was attacking Dimitri, he needed to see who, but he couldn’t. He needed to fight them, whoever it was, he needed to. But most of his body wasn’t answering and he couldn’t see them and why was he... holding the sword that had been attacking his friend?

No.

His body wasn’t answering, it was mostly moving without him and he just knew, he knew he needed to stop it, stop it stop it stop it _stop_...

More pain.

Fire extinguished. A jolt, not pain this time, inside of him. And everything went dark and cold.

He felt like he was floating. His whole body was cold, his mind too, his everything was frozen like a block of ice, slowly floating among a hazy stream of hissing mist. Through the veil surrounding him, there were voices, mutters, no, not muttering, he was just half deaf...

Screaming?

Voices arguing and yelling at each other, he couldn't hear what they said, he couldn't listen, he wanted to listen and touch and move and open his eyes. He was frozen in place, without the strength to even breathe. They were arguing, growling, more aggressive and feral with every second and he knew, somehow, he knew.

They were arguing about him.

A hand touched his veil, and one of the voices growled. The other, closer, argued again. It was familiar, somehow. This voice... The hand, almost touching his brow, he felt like he should have been able to give it a name. The other voice hissed louder, deep, feeling inhuman. And then the first one, the familiar one said one simple word, one that even he could understand.

"No."

The other voice screamed, pure rage in its tone. And the first answered in kind, furious, as its hand simply ripped the veil, the shroud from his body.

"You are not taking my son."

Felix's body jerked and he gasped, air suddenly flowing through his lungs. And then he was falling, falling, falling, just like he had almost done all these years ago when Miklan...

He was floating again, but it was different this time. Like he was suspended in the air through rope, heavy, harsh rope that held him without effort, uncomfortable, tearing painfully at his skin, his weight a burden for him and him only.

Another voice rumbled. A third one. Familiar again, but differently, viscerally, it wasn't a voice he recognized, it was... It was a voice he instinctively knew. And it hissed, perfectly intelligible.

**Judai really has to get his shit together.**

And then sound. Sound, sound, yelling and the clang of metal and Sylvain screaming and Dimitri repeating his name again and again like a prayer and Mercedes pleading... "You have to let him go. I need to see him to heal him. Please, Dimitri." And more noises and screams and the moaning of the dead and dying.

**5th day of the Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1186**

**Felix**

He woke up with a start.

There was no hand in his hair this time, he thought weakly, no one to temporarily erase all the coldness in the air with a small gesture of affection. He was alone. He was alive.

He could still feel that sword in his hand. He could still feel the pain in his neck, and he realized, somewhere between shock and stupefaction, what he had done.

Why was he alive?

It hurt, he thought distantly, his body ached like an old bruise. The pain was just an afterthought, hidden behind the part he couldn't understand.

How was he alive. _How was he alive_?

He had attacked Dimitri. By the Goddess, he had attacked Dimitri! Even if by some kind of miracle he hadn't managed to hit anything vital, they should have let him bleed out on the ground. Dimitri might have even killed him himself, and he would have deserved it...

He just stayed, prone, laying in the bed, not feeling the energy to move, just wondering, again and again, why in all that was holy he was still here and breathing.

Maybe that was why it took so long for someone to go to him. But after something that felt like hours, there was a small gasp and soft footsteps.

A face appeared in his sight periphery. Round and framed by baby blue. Despite five years and a muddy brain, he recognized her immediately.

"Marianne?" he mouthed, not finding his voice.

"Shh," she said softly, "wait a second."

She disappeared from view and was back after a few seconds with a waterskin. She helped him sit up and handed him the waterskin. His hands felt weak, but he still managed to drink small sips. A relief for a thirst he hadn't even realized he felt. Marianne smiled, her expression kind but not pitying. She looked... she looked great, actually.

Felix blinked, wondering what felt so different about her and realizing it was her eyes. There were no more bags laying under them. She had also cut her bangs and her hairstyle was more distinguished. She looked... She looked better.

That wasn't something he had expected, but as she smiled taking the waterskin he handed back to her, he couldn't help the small sense of wonder in his chest. Marianne was better. How and why were secondary questions despite his confusion, what mattered was that she was better. Soft and sad Marianne, who always seemed a bad day away from making a big mistake, who never dared raising her voice, who needed a buffer in front of noise, was better.

Marianne, who had already needed to patch him up after Gronder...

Guilt was a punch in the stomach and he almost doubled over, closing his eyes, tightly.

"Hey."

She was here again. Her blue eyes shone with concern.

"How are you feeling?" she whispered. Why was she whispering?

He looked around, finally noticing his surroundings. It was early morning, according to the light. And they were in Garreg Mach's infirmary, its beds full, wounded people scattered everywhere, sleeping or trying to... He had himself only ended up there once, after a magical experiment gone awry while he was around, but he had visited it far too much for his tastes anyway. He almost expected to see Manuela suddenly emerge to nag at them to take care of themselves.

No.

No of course. Manuela wasn't here. Manuela was back home.

Home.

Had anyone told her about his father?

He wanted her here, his chest whimpered at him, he wanted her here.

"I'm fine," he said.

Physically, at least. Marianne nodded, likely knowing exactly what he meant. She waved at someone he couldn't see.

"You need more rest," she said, "your body must be exhausted, with all the healing it had to go through is just a few days."

"Right," he mumbled.

"Do you want to be alone? Or on the contrary, do you want some people with you? You had a lot of visitors, these past few days, I’m sure any of them would be glad to stay with you."

He did not expect that. When he looked at her, she still looked concerned, but also understanding. It was at that moment, only, that he realized something. She didn't know. She didn't know what had happened on the way to Garreg Mach. If she did, she would never suggest he stay alone...

"Do you know what happened..." he started, not knowing how to continue.

She seemed to understand anyway.

"Faerghus' army was attacked on the way back," she answered, "two prisoners died in the attack, so did ten soldiers, along with numerous wounded, including you. Is there anything else I should know?"

Ten soldiers dead. He wondered, feeling nauseous, if he had killed any of them… No, probably not, he tried to comfort himself, he had been against Dimitri, right? No way had anyone dared getting close. 

Then Marianne opened her eyes wide.

"Oh, you meant Gronder? Oh, I'm so sorry, Felix. My apologies, it was tactless of me."

He did not mean Gronder. His chest ached, deeply, at the reminder. All of it felt bruised, sensitive. He just closed his eyes again and shook his head.

"Don't," he simply said.

"In any case," she insisted, "you need rest. I called Ignatz, if you can walk, he will help you to your room. I better not see you in the training grounds for at least three days, your body is _not_ ready for that and your arm will not recover if you strain it too much."

Then how would he make his mind shut up, he thought desperately, glancing at his traitorous arm, wrapped up in bandages (right, he had been hit right before the pain… he barely remembered it in comparison with what had followed…). But Marianne was looking at him with these quivering eyes of hers and he remembered Hilda saying how Marianne didn't get angry, she got sad and Felix already felt like the scum of the earth, but he just nodded. She exhaled, looking deeply relieved. For a second, she looked like she braced herself, and then, uncharacteristically, she embraced him. It lasted barely two seconds before she let him go, shivering a bit as if she couldn't believe she had actually done that, but she still took his hand.

"I... I'm," she stammered, "I'm happy to see you. We all missed you."

It all registered distantly again, just like Claude telling him how many people loved him. He tried to answer her, to tell her it was good to see her too. He only managed to press a bit on her hand. It seemed satisfying to her.

Ignatz arrived then, still small, but so obviously older than the last time they met it felt like a slap. He had been on the battlefield, Felix remembered, but he didn't have time to see him up close. His hair was shorter and his face leaner. His quiet disposition, however, looked unchanged. He smiled when seeing Felix.

"Oh, good." It felt like a sigh of relief. "I'm glad you're awake."

"Ignatz," Marianne said with her little voice, "you should take a break, you've been here ever since we came back. Do you think you could take Felix to his room on the way."

"Sure. Hilda said she'd take care of it, so it must be ready."

Hilda, taking care of a room? Things _really_ had changed, hadn't they...

Walking felt weird. His whole body, behind the dull ache, felt numb, like he was walking on soft ground instead of the stones that paved the way. Ignatz didn't talk much, discrete as ever, but his clicking feet were a reminder that he wasn't alone. He focused on their noise, rhythmical, a calm routine that told him right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot, helping him move along and not stop. The dorms were far from the infirmary, but Felix didn't feel too weak to walk there, no. He felt...

Well he felt nothing actually.

It was like everything was gone except for the need to focus on something, anything to escape whatever his mind and heart wanted to scream at him. There was a time where he had thought that feeling was exhausting and he had wanted it to stop. Well, there it had happened, and he still was exhausted...

The stairs to the dorm looked new, likely they had been destroyed during the siege. Felix faltered for a second, being reminded of the two times he had helped Claude climb them. Once as a game between them (so immature, but the memory had never failed to bring him a smile before), the second when his leader was hurt, wounded, and still had tried to pretend he was fine. Very briefly, he wondered if Ignatz would suggest assisting him up, not that he'd need it.

"Ah, Felix!"

Well if he was, it would be now.

"Yes?"

"Do, erm... Do you need me to stay with you?"

Did he? Felix didn't know. There had been leader's orders, he recalled, to never stay alone. But that had been before. And they didn't even know what he had done. And he was just... tired and numb. He shook his head.

"I just want to sleep," he said quietly.

Ignatz winced.

"Oh, okay. I... won't bother you, then."

Did Ignatz want to stay with him? Sympathy, probably. They cared for him, even now they did. It was humbling to think about in normal times. Today, he just felt ashamed of it. He lowered his head.

"Take care," he said. No thanks, he couldn't even show gratefulness for a friend who wanted to take care of him. Tongue-tied, as always, when it was time to say what he really thought. Why did anyone even still bother with him?

Ignatz smiled a bit and raised a hand, before thinking again and lowering it.

"You too," he said, "I'll tell the others you're awake, but I'll ask them not to bother you while you rest. Is that okay?"

So much consideration. And Felix just shrugged as an answer before going up. The ground was harder, now, as if he was coming back to the world now that he was alone. He walked the long way up, through the corridor of bedrooms he had walked in so many times before, in a better life. It felt unending... Like it took him an hour to reach what used to be his bedroom, that room that he _knew_ Claude and Yuri disliked, but he never figured out why. He had never dared asking...

When he entered it, he was welcomed with the sight of Hilda, putting crafting tools into a bag.

"Hilda?"

She jumped and looked at him with an expression so guilty you'd have thought she was doing something forbidden.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't expect you to be here so soon! I'll take the rest of my stuff and be out of your way immediately."

"Your stuff," he repeated with confusion, watching the clothes, accessories and other belongings that had never been here five years earlier.

And clearly, they hadn't ended up there by accident when pillagers were living in the ruins. No, this was recent.

"You were staying in my room," he said as the realization struck him.

Hilda flinched a little. She gave him a small smile.

"Yeah," she admitted, "I... didn't want to go back to my room when I came back here. She..."

The pink-haired girl bit her lips, looking far more tortured than she had any right to be when, finally, things were starting to go right again. But then, wasn’t he the same way?

"She was just next door," she ended up saying slowly.

She.

The Emperor.

Right.

"She was just next door," Hilda started again, "and I heard _things_. Not enough to be too suspicious, just enough to know she was shady, and that I didn't like her or trust her. Just being there, I felt like... I would hear again. Not her, really, but memories. Things that should have warned me about what she was preparing. Things that make me feel like I should have known and maybe I could have stopped all that madness."

She raised her head, not looking at him.

"I guess I... needed to hide." she concluded, clutching her accessory bag against her chest.

The words of a long made promise, a deal she had never actually acted on, came back to his mind.

He thought of Dimitri, who had stayed next door, and how sometimes, just seeing his old friend was like a punch to the gut. He remembered all these times Sylvain brought girls and even he could hear them fucking, and how each of these nights was like a stab to the chest that he hated himself for feeling.

He didn't want to stay in this room.

"You can stay here," he said with a rough voice, "I'll take your room."

She blinked, turning towards him for a second, before lowering her head, understanding drawn on her face. She nodded.

"Perfect," she said with a voice that was only shaking a bit, "we have a deal, then."

A deal. Sure. He could work with that. He started turning away, trying to remember where Hilda's room used to be...

"Third from the stairs," the young woman said, as if she had read his mind, "just like this one is third from the end wall."

That did make it easier to remember.

"Okay," he said instead of thank you.

"You're welcome. Also, Felix?"

Her hand stopped near his shoulder, almost touching his hair, his untied hair. He felt something, for a brief second, something painful, similar to when his sword had broken. He had been wearing her ribbon, hadn't he? Where had it fallen? No one would have known to pick it up...

Her hand stayed there, not touching him.

"Your hair is a mess," she said, and it sounded like 'it's good to see you', "I'll fix it up for you later, okay?"

"I can take care of my hair myself."

"I know. You know me, it’s a whim. I just like helping others with their hair."

She patted him slightly and let him go. And as he left, so did the prickle of warm he hadn't noticed had slithered beneath his skin. Maybe he should indeed take her up on her offer. He'd have to think about it later, when his everything wasn't screaming to sleep and forget. Right now, even nightmares sounded preferable to reality, at least in them he _felt_ something.

Finding Hilda's room, he entered, took off the boots he had been given, and let himself fall on the bed. Sleep took him almost immediately.

_"Felix? Calm down, my boy, why are you crying?"_

_A question that was asked to him so many times, he had lost count. His dad had had to wipe his tears off again and again, it was a wonder he was still asking the reason behind them._

_"Miss Dargent said it looked like I hadn't worked at all since last session," he hiccuped, "that I wasn't 'evolved' enough in my training."_

_And it was a lie. A big lie! He was always training when he could! Against Glenn, against wooden targets, against a stableboy if no one else was free... And against Mitya and Sylvain when they came here! But in the last days, Sylvain had been hurt, and Felix couldn't train against him and he was worried because Sylvain wasn't smiling and Sylvain was always smiling, so something was wrong. But even so, he had tried to train, he had!_

_His dad pet his hair._

_"It's nothing, my boy. I am sure you did your best. You know Miss Dargent is always harsh."_

_"But why is my best not enough?" he whimpered._

_"It's because you're still growing," his dad smiled, "everyone here is bigger than you. Even when His Highness comes here, he has the advantage of his crest. And he has the best instructors at Fhirdiad! Everyone has an unfair advantage over you, but it won't last."_

_That was mildly comforting. But Felix pouted._

_"That is no excuse," he said, repeating words he had heard that very morning, "no matter the circumstances, a knight of Blaidydd must keep his sword sharp."_

_"Well said," his dad laughed, "what do you say you train against me this time?"_

_"But... father, do you really have the time?"_

_Dad never had time for much, he did his best to eat with him and Glenn, and when he had a break from work he usually came to them, so they'd spent time together, but it was never long enough for actual training._

_"I do," he ensured, taking his hand, "now come with me. I am going to teach you a new technique. This way, you'll be able to surprise Miss Dargent next time, she won't be able to tell you you didn't work."_

_"Promise?"_

_"Promise."_

_The world morphed around him, and it wasn't his father's hand he was holding anymore, it was Glenn's._

_"Did you use the technique Father showed you?" his brother asked, enthusiastically._

_"I did! Miss Dargent was so impressed!"_

_"What about Dimitri?"_

_"Mitya loved it! He wants to try the sword again, but he's scared of breaking it. I said I'd teach him when he'd be able to use one, so he's going to try again!"_

_"That's nice! Have you used it to protect him?"_

_"... What?"_

_Glenn wasn't thirteen anymore. He was eighteen, just like when he had died, and his eyes were teasing, but dark._

_"That's why we teach each other these things, you know. We need to keep the Royal Family safe."_

_"Glenn what do you..."_

_"Why else would we teach you these things if not to protect Dimitri?"_

_Why else?_

_"You did a poor job," something that sounded like his father's voice was saying, "what kind of shield are you, to leave him in the middle of a battlefield?"_

_A shield. An Aegis._

_"I disagree," Glenn said lightly, "I think he did the right thing when it mattered. In the end, he gave his life for Dimitri too, didn't he?"_

_For Dimitri?_

_"You're right," Rodrigue said, unbearably warm, "I'm proud of you, my son. You would have died to protect the prince, just like you ought to."_

_He didn't do it for Dimitri, he tried to say. Words wouldn't come out, he didn't do it for Faerghus or some horsecrap like that, he did it because..._

_Mitya, seven years old, trying to put flowers in his hair while he was asleep, grinning from ear to ear when Felix noticed, swearing it looked pretty. Mitya, eight years old, reading knight tales with him and crying because he didn't want the knights protecting him to be in danger. Mitya, nine years old, panicking because he had broken a sword, and he was afraid it was precious to someone, and Felix trying to calm him down and saying he'd take the blame, crying too, because he didn't want Mitya to get in trouble. Mitya, ten years old, forced to stay sitting in front of nobles for hours, all of them making promises that didn't make any sense to either of them, Felix itching to rip him from this throne and take him to climb a tree he had seen in the garden. Mitya, eleven years old, trying to come up with a plan to steal strawberry tarts because they had never tasted strawberries before. Mitya, twelve years old, having to learn so many things about History and tradition that he wasn't interested in, Felix forcing himself to learn them too in solidarity. Dimitri, thirteen years old, who couldn't be called Mitya in public anymore, but was still smiling at him with the same warmth. Dimitri, fourteen, broken and staring at nothing, wounded by his own knights for protecting a Duscurian boy, having lost everything and Felix not being able to go to him because grown-ups had decided so. The Boar, laughing and laughing and laughing as blood splashed on him, the world disappearing under a coat of hate and anger and bloodlust and Felix being scared and running and crying, for the last time, as he realized that he had lost him too. No one listening to him, everyone turning a blind eye. Bitterness, resentment, fear, all crashing down until it was all he could feel._

_Dimitri yelling he'd have the Emperor's head, swearing to their face that if they chose to follow him, he'd use them until nothing of them was left, still painfully honest behind his madness. Claude smiling and nodding, eyes murderous, when a Faerghan told him that his ‘schemes’ were dishonorable and that any soldier worth that title would rather die for a man who would sacrifice them, than one who fought without honour. Dimitri's big blue eyes, looking so hopeful as he thanked him for his help when carrying Balthus, hoping, hoping so much that this was a step towards mending whatever they used to have. Claude telling him how glad he was that Sylvain wouldn't come with them, because no one should have to kill family. Dimitri smiling knowingly when he saw him petting a cat, but not saying a word. Him surprising Claude doing the same and both of them almost freaking out because for reasons that seemed so stupid right now, neither wanted anyone to know about that soft spot of theirs for these creatures. Dimitri carrying a wounded Claude, Claude promising he'd try to save Dimitri. Dimitri and Claude, a friend from childhood and one he had made not so long ago, the master he was supposed to serve and the one he actually wanted to._

_"And now you almost died for both of them in a matter of days," Glenn's voice was laughing, likely finding the situation hilarious._

_Dimitri coming back alive, with that strange kid who had warm, but sad eyes. Everyone being so overjoyed. Glenn. Felix hurting, and hurting and hurting but being unable not to feel like they were all stupid, because of course Dimitri had been alive all this time. Anything else was unfathomable. Hope coming back, growing, glowing, the light coming back in his friends' eyes, the soldiers uniting like one man behind their lost prince, the country of his birth, finding its reason to fight again._

_It wasn't... for Dimitri or for Faerghus. It wasn't..._

_But then, for who? For what?_

A rasp of knuckles against the door woke him up with a start. It took him a few seconds to recognize the yellow carpet and remember where he was. Hilda’s old bedroom...

He stood blearily, wondering who would come here, when the room’s owner hadn’t lived here in a while. The sun was higher in the sky, but it was still morning, so he couldn't have been asleep for that long. He felt like he had slept a thousand years yet not at all. Whoever was on the other side of that door would probably see a wreck... Well, he had lost all ability to care about that, as far as he was concerned.

He threw a glance at a mirror, probably something Hilda had left there after leaving her room, too cumberstone to bother with. It was slightly broken too, maybe it had been left there ever since the attack five years ago. The amount of thick dust on it made his reflection look gray and blurry, his untied hair falling beneath his chin and reminding him of his father. They didn’t look much like each other, he thought distantly, so that said a lot about how dirty the mirror was. Yet even like that, Felix could still see the red, angry line on the side of his neck.

His hand touched it, almost as if to check that it really was there. He felt the dull ache in it, of a not fully healed wound. He had done that. He had done that himself, no matter how unintentional it had been. He had never been one to wish for death. He had wondered, yes, he had wondered why he was still alive when Glenn... What had he done that made him more deserving of life? But he had never wished for death. He didn't think so at least. And yet as he looked at the wound, the scar that would one day become paler, he wondered, again.

Why was he alive, after that?

The person behind the door knocked again, and Felix wobbled to open it.

He was greeted by Dimitri's tall frame.

Felix froze in surprise. The prince was huddled up, as if to try to make himself smaller. It was almost working, he was still far too tall, but pitiful, nothing like the murderous husk that had been walking in his body for the last months, all hunched, but somehow standing straighter than this one was.

His surprised blue eye fell on Felix, pleading and desperate, but also guarded, as if expecting the door to close on him anytime. Yet it was clear, devoid of the haze that had been clouding it. Devoid of the rage that had haunted it ever since Duscur. It was just... blue. And wounded, but trying. Hopeful. Or maybe it had been that way, five years ago, and Felix just hadn't noticed, lost in his own hurt and fear as he was...

"May..." his voice was deep, his tone awkward. "May I enter?"

Dimitri was actually here. Not lost in his own mind.

Felix looked at him like one looked at a ghost, unsure what exactly he was supposed to feel. Unsure _how exactly_ he felt.

Empty, he guessed. Empty was a good guess. He had felt that way for hours. It was marginally better than the sickening crunch of his heart being stepped on again and again until fate figured how to set fire to parts he didn't even know he had left.

He almost closed the door. He knew that talking with Dimitri could do nothing that wasn't spitting on the ashes, whether it was intentional or not.

But he was too tired to fight. And his brand new scar, right on the side of his neck, gave him the feeling that he did not have that right.

So he stepped aside, inside Hilda's room, or was it his room now? He didn't say a word. Dimitri entered with muttered apologies for bothering him. Felix didn't listen to them, and just let him close the door.

"Thank you for seeing me," Dimitri mumbled, "I needed to talk with you."

"I noticed."

"Felix, please. Won't you look at me?"

Felix didn't look at people when he was talking to them. Dimitri knew that, or should have known. But it was hearing his name that hit the harshest. His name. When was the last time he had heard Dimitri say his name?

When he was bleeding out in his arms, right. He barely remembered it, was half convinced it was a hallucination, really. But outside of that weird dream that his desperate brain had conjured, when?

"So I'm Felix again," he said.

Dimitri startled. His eye widened in horror.

"Felix, I am..."

"Stop. Stop... I don’t care for apologies."

The biting tone that he had spent so much time perfecting until it was a part of him was gone. Had been since he'd woken up and had no idea how. Or was it even before, when he had learnt about his father?

"If you want to apologize," he said slowly, "show it through acts. I don't care about words."

Dimitri nodded firmly.

"I will," he promised, "I will do right by you and your father. That rage of mine won't take over again, that I promise you."

There was some kind of hysterical laughter bubbling in Felix's throat. It was tinted with anger and rage and fury and so much pain. He tried to swallow it down.

"That's rich," he said without thinking, bitterness on his tongue, tears of frustration building in his eyes and how long had it been? How long had it been since he had last cried, "who would have thought that after all this time, and after so many in your army dying, _that_ was what you needed."

Dimitri froze, unsure. He was almost cowering, making himself smaller, which for the hulking mass of a man that he was, was quite difficult. But there was just a small spark of hurt there, because of course Felix still had the power to hurt him. Who else, really, than the one who had belittled him and insulted him day after day as if shaming the beast would somehow bring back the friend he had lost.

"What do you mean?" Dimitri said, voice still meek, as if he didn't dare raise it.

"It just had to be my father's death that brought you back." and why couldn't he stop? Stop, Felix, stop talking. He was staring at the ground and his eyes were burning, and he could feel the choking coming. Stop talking, accept Dimitri's apologies, dammit Felix, why did you always have to be so _difficult_...

"Felix, I know no apology will suffice..."

"Figures," he had to stop, there was the laugh, the trembling, "figures it was the only thing that would work."

"Felix..." Why was Dimitri's voice so shocked, so subdued? It didn't sound angry, or hurt. Felix tried to stop the laughter.

A tear fell on his fist. He wiped it angrily. Oh. It wasn't laughter.

It was a sob.

"If I had known," he spat more at himself than at his old friend, "if I had known that another Fraldarius dying for you was what you needed to come back, I'd have let someone run me through a long time ago!"

"Felix!"

He barely had time to register the horror in Dimitri's voice as [two strong arms embraced fiercely](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/739115863155933184/813904002936340511/chap_28.png), desperately, more terrified than anything else.

"Do not say that! I beg of you. Do not ever say anything like that again!"

His arms were shaking. Felix had really done it this time hadn't he. Dimitri was holding him, keeping him close, prisoner in a way, as if he was scared Felix would hurt himself. Because he had, right. His scar was numb, he couldn't feel any pain, not even a dull ache anymore. But his face was burning and he was crying. He was crying, crying, crying. And he didn't remember how to stop.

"Do not," Dimitri was mumbling in terror, "I cannot lose you too. Your death is the last thing I want, please, please, do not ever talk about yourself that way again."

Would he have said the same thing, one week ago, when his father was kissing Manuela goodbye before leaving for Gronder? When Felix kept hating himself for staying with him instead of the one he actually wanted to serve? When his ghosts kept screaming for the head of a woman who was nothing but a child during Duscur, when every time they saw each other, Dimitri called him Glenn, a reminder of who it was that should have been here in his stead.

Why was it, that out of his family, the one left had to be the screw up, the broken glorified soldier who could only fight and kill and destroy like a beast, who couldn't rule and talk and think and do anything useful? Glenn should have lived. His father should have lived.

What was Felix doing still alive if all this time he could have brought Dimitri back this way?

But Dimitri was here now, repeating desperate pleas in his ear and Felix cried. He felt himself hit Dimitri's chest a few times before clutching it, like a drowning man trying to find his way to the surface. He could barely breathe, weeping as he was.

Why did it all hurt so much, now?

He just wanted the world to stop turning for a second, winding back and sending him through time. He wanted his brother, the one who had smirked on his departure, telling him not to worry, that he'd bring back his brother's precious friend back safe. He wanted his father, the one who had once helped him learn a technique in secret just so he could impress his tutor. He wanted them. And it hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt.

"You are more precious to me than you can imagine," he heard in his ear, as a hand was combing through his hair, more feverishly than Yuri liked to do it, "you are my voice of reason, my anchor, my best friend. And I am so, so sorry, for everything. Please, please, Felix. I am begging you."

He had no answer to give. Just more sobs and tears. 

Felix wasn't sure how long they stayed like that. It felt like hours, it might have been more. He was pretty sure he had dozed off for a bit again. He still felt far too tired, but he had stopped crying. Finally. Dimitri too. Felix knew he had cried because his eye was red and puffy. So there they were, he thought, two stupid men who had just spent hours crying in each other's arms. Because they couldn't talk without Felix's emotions getting the better of him, apparently.

Dimitri seemed half-asleep too, sitting as he was on the bed, Felix neatly tucked against him, not restraining him anymore, but not letting him go either. He blinked when he saw Felix looking at him, and then he straightened up.

"Are you okay?" he asked, almost shy.

Felix shrugged. He had no idea if he was okay. Probably not. But he wasn't exactly sure he remembered what 'okay' was anymore. He had felt worse, in any case.

"I..." Dimitri fidgeted. "I know we can say things we don't mean when we're... emotional, but... I need to know, for sure, that you do not actually wish for death. Please."

"I don't." And it was the truth. For all that he wondered, why, _why_ , why it was _him_ who had survived until then, he hadn't ever wanted to die. He had accepted it, as an inevitability, but that didn't mean he actually wanted it.

Dimitri's hand hovered against his neck and Felix lowered his gaze.

"There are however lives that I know are more precious than my own."

Dimitri's breath hitched, his arms clutching him tighter and Felix winced. It wasn't painful, not yet, but he needed to be careful, with that insane strength of his.

"My life," Dimitri hissed, the sound desperate, "is not worth more than yours."

Right. Because Felix could unite a country, give people hope and lead armies to victory through his sole presence. He couldn't help but snort. Dimitri bit his lip, looking dismayed.

"It isn't worth any of the sacrifices that have been made to preserve it."

"That's not something for you to decide"

"Felix, I..."

"No. It's not. If you think your life isn't worth it, then _make it_ worth it."

He said it like it was easy and obvious. Obvious, maybe, for him. But easy? Oh, he knew it definitely wouldn't be.

"Become the King Faerghus needs you to be. Do everything you can to be someone they would be proud of. That's how you will make it worth it. Through actions."

Stunned silence answered him for a few seconds. And then a small laugh, with barely any humour in it.

"I swear," Dimitri mumbled, "you and Judai are more alike than you seem."

Judai. Felix wondered what the kid had told Dimitri. He had barely seen him since Gronder, even when they had walked together, they had only exchanged a few words.

 **Judai really has to get his shit together**. His dream came back into mind. He didn't know what it had been, it hadn't... _felt_ like a dream, but nothing else made sense.

Finally, Dimitri opened his arms, letting him go. Felix stood readily, the world suddenly much colder.

"Felix."

He looked down, Dimitri still sitting on the bed. The prince was searching inside his blue cape. He wasn’t wearing his usual armor, Felix noted with a blink, he hadn’t realized it before. He was wearing plain clothes, for once.

"I, ah... I initially came for another reason. I wanted to bring you something."

His gauntlet came out, holding something familiar. A ribbon, black and silver, simple but so precious. Felix's chest became tighter, familiar yet still confusing emotions swirling inside it. Hilda's gift.

"It... fell to the ground. When Ingrid took you I picked it up without thinking."

Felix took it, his hand shaking just a little. His fingers were steadier when he started tying his hair up, looser than usual. It felt better. The reflection on the mirror didn't resemble his father as much this way. The scar, however, was more visible now. And Dimitri was staring at it, his face so sad Felix felt awkward, naked almost. He pulled on his collar, wishing for his usual turtlenecks. No one would stare at him anymore if he could hide it... Dimitri put a hand on his shoulder, two fingers against the scar.

"Are you... ashamed of it?"

Ashamed? Of the scar? Felix fidgeted but didn't move to get Dimitri's hand away from it, and maybe that was answer enough. It was a pretty ugly scar, and what it represented...

"You should not be," Dimitri said softly, "you have no reason to be ashamed of what you did."

"Right," Felix mumbled, rolling his eyes, "a noble death, all that stuff."

"Certainly not. There is no more glory in death than there is in life, you of all people know that."

He did. That had been the biggest irony of their school days, to know that the one he kept pushing away and trying to hate was the only one sharing his views about Faerghus' stupid obsession with death.

"But that doesn't change the fact that... no matter how much I hate it, you made a very selfless choice. Do not be ashamed of it."

Something swelled inside Felix's gut, twisted and warm at the same time, something complicated that hurt, but was almost a relief. He felt tears, again, trying to pass his eyelids. That was too many emotions for one morning, he decided.

"Dimitri," he enunciated slowly, "get out."

Dimitri's breath hitched. And then he smiled. Felix turned his gaze away, feeling his face warming from embarrassment in front of the genuine joy in his eye. Thankfully, the prince just nodded and went towards the door.

"Also," Felix tried, hoping the words would come out that one time, and they did, they did, "thank you. For picking up the ribbon."

"Of course, Felix." Dimitri smiled, leaving the room.

He stopped for a second once outside, and tilted his head.

"Whenever you feel ready to accept it, I will have something for you. But it is no pressing matter, so do not worry about it."

Something for him. Whatever it was, Felix didn't feel ready to accept it indeed. He just looked at the door that Dimitri closed and sat back on the bed. He was still in infirmary clothes, he noted tiredly, someone had gotten rid of his probably blood-covered shirt... He needed to get other ones. Would his things be in his room? He might need to ask Hilda…

He counted to ten, trying to find the courage in himself to get out in the state he was in to ask for clothes. Anything that could give him the feeling of being more himself. When he finally managed to stand back on shaky legs, he simply hoped his eyes weren’t too red as he opened the door.

He hadn’t expected Leonie to be on the other side of the door.

The girl gasped, letting go of what she was carrying, and embraced him without a moment of hesitation. She stepped back after barely a few seconds, looking ashamed.

“Oh no, sorry. I know you’re not fond of that.”

“It’s okay,” he blinked, “I… didn’t expect you.”

“Yeah,” she smiled and it looked sad, “Ignatz told us not to bother you, so I decided I’d put your clothes in front of your room. Hilda told me you were here so yeah.”

She gestured at what she had let go of. The small bag containing his change of clothes. Right, she had taken it with her when they had left Gronder. And she was now staring at him, lip wobbling.

“You are not allowed to play with our heart like that, you know?” she mumbled. “Wasn’t that the exact thing you used to complain Sylvain did?”

That was a low blow and he winced.

“I complained about many things Sylvain did,” he said, looking at the ground, “you’ll have to be more specific.”

As if he didn’t know exactly what she was talking about.

“Right,” Leonie sighed, looking amused despite herself, “well, all's well that ends well, so I can’t really yell at you… But please, man, don’t ever scare me like that again. Twice in less than a week, I don’t think my heart can handle that many scares much longer.”

“Can’t promise anything. We can’t know what the future battles will hold.”

“At least try, idiot, that’s all I ask.”

“I didn’t exactly plan on these, you know?”

“I know, accept the worry and stop being an ass or I’ll hug you again.”

“What a terrifying threat.”

She punched his shoulder and he felt his lips twist up, if only barely. Then her eyes became serious again.

“Hey. If you feel like shit, or anything, go and see Raphael, okay? He knows a lot of stuff about what you’re going through, and you know he won’t ask any questions.”

Felix doubted Raphael knew much about almost accidentally killing yourself because you could not control your body anymore. But he knew what Leonie was talking about. They were highly different, that noisy bruiser and him, he wasn’t sure his advice would be all that helpful.

But what did he have to lose?

“We’ll see.” He answered.

Leonie looked at him, attentively, almost squinting in her worry.

“Will you be alright?” She asked sincerely.

He was feeling again. He was oscillating between scarily numb and too close to exploding, but he could hope, somehow, that it would stabilize, sooner or later. He nodded.

“I think so,” he answered, surprised to mean it.

She smiled again, then, small and relieved.

“Okay. Then unless you need me, I’m not bothering you any longer. Take the time you need, okay?”

He nodded. When she left, waving at him, he managed to tell her he’d see her later.

A bit later and properly dressed, he left the dorms and went to the meeting room, he heard had been renamed the war room. He did not expect anyone in particular to be there in truth, but he wanted to go there anyway, as if it'd make the fact that he was here reality, that they had finally done it, after five years of terrible choices and loss, they finally had a chance...

People were working all around him, most of them busy with parts of the reconstruction. He saw unknown faces and known faces alike, blue and yellow mixing along and stopped for a few seconds, emotions rushing again in his chest, though he kept them firmly there.

There they were, Alliance and Kingdom soldiers, working side by side, not caring about the colours they wore. Who cared where they came from, they were united with one common goal right now, and that was all that mattered. Some were simply professional, others seemed to be joking around. None of it looked any tense, because in the end, they were just humans, finding more interest in their similarities than in their differences.

For a second he wondered if Claude's vision for the world looked like that.

Claude. Maybe Claude would be in the meeting room...

He wasn't. But the professor was. Professor Eisner smiled softly when she saw him, standing up from the papers she was reviewing. There was no hello or how are you. Felix blinked, having barely the time to think that she hadn't changed at all since her disappearance during the siege, before she embraced him firmly. Like almost everyone had done.

"Professor?"

"Shh," she said, "let me enjoy the fact that you're alive just a bit more."

He felt like he had been hugged far too much today, yet he didn't have the strength to refuse her. He never had. No one had, that was one of her strengths. She didn't stay that way for long anyway.

"Did you come here so I'd put you to work?"

He hadn't, but now that he thought about it, that was probably the best thing he could do right now, wasn’t it? He already felt a bit tired, his body not having recovered. Trekking back to his room would be hard, as would be looking for anyone else.

"Yes."

"Marianne said no exercise for two or three days. That means you're going to have the dubious honour of helping me with these."

She gestured at her pile of paper and he groaned, already regretting agreeing. It was all management, resources, contacts with different lords that helped them or tried to shirk away from helping them, making sure populations wouldn't starve while keeping enough for the war effort. A dangerous and complicated balance of information. Felix had always been pretty good at maths, but the numbers were making his head spin after just a few minutes.

"We don't have access to Tailtean," he mumbled, massaging his head, "and Gronder has been destroyed during the conflict. That's the two biggest food providers of Fodlan gone for us."

"It wasn't smart of the Empire to let us fight in Gronder during the Great Tree Moon," the professor added, humming, "they've just made a big step towards famine with that. Their population will grow hungry in just a few months, now."

They could almost wait them out, Felix thought, not that they actually would. After all, with how the previous five years had played out, it was obvious that the Empire was heavily favouring the military, it'd be the common people who would suffer from Gronder being charred grounds. So many thoughts, so much projecting in a broken future. He was terrible at that, how would he actually help the professor?

"I don't know if I'm going to be of much use," he admitted bitterly.

"Nonsense," she clicked her tongue, "you've already helped me plenty with the percentage of income for officers. Having another set of eyes on numbers allows me to avoid mistakes. Plus..."

"Yes?"

She looked somber, her eyes sad.

"You're going to need to learn about that, anyway."

Oh.

His chest tightened again. He would, right? After all, he was his father's only heir... His uncle might be able to rule the lands for the moment, but sooner or later, the responsibility would fall to him.

A stone sinking in his stomach, he nodded. There were a lot of people who would need him to step up for them. He would disappoint them, he knew that, just like he had done so many times, but he had to at least try. He couldn't let them down like that. He wasn't that kind of person...

It hurt, to realize that despite never knowing what he wanted to do with his future, any possible choice had been taken from him along with his father. But it wasn't time to be selfish, he figured numbly. So he went to work, in silence, until exhaustion caught up to him again. Professor Eisner smiled at him, the sun still out, it wasn't even night yet.

"Rest your eyes," she said, "you shouldn't overwork yourself."

And so he did.

If he thought his dream from the morning had been unpleasant, it had nothing on what was waiting for him this time.

It was the lightning again, going through him. As easily as the magic he conjured, lightning that went through his blood and pierced every part of him from the inside, taking, taking, taking all and leaving him broken and gasping in distress. He was choking against the intrusion, his hands burning as if his own thunder had hurt him, burnt down, ravaging all he was. It was forcing its way into his mind and body, aggressive and burning.

A hand shaking him woke him up with a gasp. The pain everywhere receded, revealing itself to be nothing but a memory, a phantom ache, a reminder of how _violated_ he had felt at that moment.

"Shit," he heard a voice grumbling, "it should have been expected, but still..."

Feeling the panic slowly relax, he tried to catch his breath. He had goosebumps, his skin sensitive and cool to the touch. His fingers were shaking and taken by a terrified idea, he tried to call his magic to him for a second.

Lightning. Lightning started responding, coming to him, and it wasn’t burning, but it was still Lightning and rattling at his skin and he stopped as terror shook him. He couldn’t call it to him. He couldn’t, it felt too familiar. Too hurtful. Too much like _that thing_ that had pushed all he was aside to force his body to obey.

Blinking humiliated tears away so they wouldn’t fall down, his eyes fell on Judai. The kid was looking at him with worry. With anger, too, rage even. Felix didn't know the kid could feel angry... It was enough to tear him from the terror that was eating at him and simply breathe, calm down, and look around.

The Meeting room was empty outside of them, the professor probably electing to leave him to his rest. Even the papers had disappeared.

"Hey there," Judai's eyes softened when he saw Felix looking, "I'm sorry you had to experience that. The Light can really fuck you up."

The Light. Judai had talked about the Light, Felix hadn't listened at the time, busy as he was wallowing over them not being in the right place. With the shock of everything since he had woken up, he had only thought distantly about how that _thing_ that had come inside him, forcing him to do things he hadn't wanted to, had felt like. It had been torture. It had been brief enough that his wakefulness had censored most of it.

"That thing was the Light?" he said, voice strangled.

"Yeah," Judai sighed, "it mostly prefers subtle possession, aligning its will with its host until it controls them with barely any mind control at all, it makes its grasp on them much stronger this way... But sometimes, when it feels especially sadistic - or in your case doesn't have time - it goes the torture meat puppet way. You weren't possessed for long so I guess I hoped..."

Felix's whole body was shivering. He had had no way of resisting, knowing that this thing could have instead chosen to slither into him and whisper destructive thoughts at him for years, until he started thinking them by himself... It was scary. Scary and familiar.

"It wanted Dimitri," he mumbled.

"Of course it did. That was the best way to kill the alliance between Leicester and Faerghus before it could start."

"His ghosts..."

Judai winced.

"Ah. No. I see why you would think that, but these are mostly his wounded mind."

Felix nodded, feeling relieved for some reason. He shouldn't have, wouldn't it have been better if Dimitri had a reason beyond humanity for his destructive behaviour?

No. Not really. Because for all that illnesses of the mind could make you act beyond reason at times, the idea of that thing doing to Dimitri what it had done to him... He felt nauseous.

"You knew what it was the moment you saw the prisoners act up." What had Judai said? That it wanted Dimitri to stop Faerghus from allying with Leicester?

… Did that mean that _thing_ was actually allied with the Empire?

"I did. I'm unfortunately familiar with the Light, what with it being my mortal enemy since basically forever."

His way of describing two forces of nature clashing in a battle way beyond humanity might have made Felix snort, any other day.

"How many people like me have you already met?" He tried to keep his voice steady.

Judai hummed, lips turned down in a frown.

"Too many," he admitted softly, "including the love of my life."

The love of his... It didn't last long, but Felix saw Sylvain for a second, raising the Lance of Ruin to hit him, eyes lost to rage and pain. That idea hurt as much as him fighting Dimitri had.

"I see."

"They got it... the hardest out of all I think. It lasted years, years not of simple subtle possession, but of torture like you went through. Even now, they're still not okay."

Even now? Felix frowned, not sure he understood.

"They're the other part of my soul", Judai explained, wincing a bit, "with everything the Light had taken from them, it was the only way I knew how to save them. Fusing with the embodiment of Darkness, even at its strongest the Light in them couldn't survive."

"The other part of _what_?"

Judai chuckled a bit.

"Their name is Yubel. They won't admit it, but they've been pretty worried for you, especially since you went through the same thing."

Once again, Felix had no idea how he felt as the enormity of the situation fell on him. There was a bit of a nagging feeling in his mind, telling him that maybe all these times he had shown just a bit of himself to Judai (And he still wondered why, at times, he was so honest with him. Was it the fake smile and the kind eyes? What was this fondness he had for this type of person?), he hadn't been showing it _just_ to Judai.

"I see." he said, which was an absolute lie.

"I'll explain in more detail one of these days," Judai promised with a touch of derision, "Claude has asked me for a story. But that doesn't mean he is the only one allowed to hear it."

"I am surprised he didn't already lock himself up inside a room with you until you were finished."

Judai laughed, but the sound was sad.

"It's complicated. I'm thankful he's left me time."

"... Did you get _your_ answers?"

"I did."

"I see."

"Now, part of me thinks I should have listened to you and come here from the beginning."

Well. Not like they could change anything now. Judai hummed.

"But maybe," he said, voice empty, "it's good that I waited so long to come here. After all, it gave me an anchor. I think it’s thanks to all of you, being here for me all this time, that I did not lose myself..."

So whatever answers he had gotten hadn’t been the happy kind. Felix wished he was surprised.

"Oh, you're here."

The voice, at the entrance of the room, made Felix jump, though Judai didn't move, as if he had known someone was coming. Sylvain. The red-haired man was looking at them with an empty stare, distant, guarded.

"Judai, professor Hanneman wanted to see you." he said.

"Okay," the boy-kid-man answered, "thank you."

He smiled at Felix.

"Take care, okay? I’ll see you later. Try to see what I can do to make sure it doesn’t happen again."

Felix nodded again, not sure what else he could answer. Judai couldn't control the nightmares, unfortunately, unless that wasn’t what he meant. In truth, now that he knew what was waiting for him, Felix didn't want to sleep anymore... But atrocious dreams had been haunting him for a decade now. There wouldn’t be anything new here...

**Judai really has to get his shit together.**

He almost told him, not sure why. But his mouth stayed shut, staring at him as he left. And then there was only him and Sylvain. Sylvain who was still staring at him with these empty eyes, not even his usual fake smile. He didn't come closer, didn't wink and joke or tease him, didn't even get angry no matter how rare it was.

"You should tell Ingrid you're alive," was all he said, voice clipped and _hurt_ before leaving too.

Ingrid.

Annette, Mercedes, Sylvain. Even Claude, Yuri, Lysithea and Raphael. The only Golden Deer he had met, he hadn’t intended to meet… He hadn't gone to any of them.

Drowning in thoughts and exhausted as he was, he hadn't gone to them, simply walking to the first place that had come to mind and not moving once he had found something to work on. It had felt logical at the time but...

Sylvain had sounded so hurt.

Felix closed his eyes, his chest tight. Heart heavy, he wondered if, despite never having him in the first place, he had just lost Sylvain too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Felix. But he gets a drawing of Dimitri hugging him! (Also, Felix hugging count: 5) I've noticed that I have him crying and getting hugged in half the drawings I've made of him... I think part of it is because the game likes teasing us with all these tidbits about how he used to be a crybaby, yet we never see him cry even once and can't ever comfort him despite all the shit he goes through whatever the route. Even though we know it hits him hard everytime! Hell, half of his conversation with Dimitri, here, was due to their A-rank where he admits that not a day passes where he doesn't wonder why he's still alive when his father and brother aren't...  
> Other little bits of trivias on that scene, since it's the one I have the most on, I had just re-read a previous version of my Gronder chapter before writing this one, and ouch. Rodrigue's almost last words to him were literally 'Please do not be difficult.'. I don't know, I just felt like I had to reference it, because it must hurt like damn...  
> And of course I had to include Felix calling Dimitri by his name! Anyone who has spoken more than 15 minutes to me about the game will have heard about how the moment it happens in AM is the one time I burst out crying out of the entire game, ugly sobbing and all despite how understated it is. I was hella shocked to learn that it was optional btw, I always had it in all my runs x) But I honestly wondered about how it would look like, here, because mentally, Felix refers to Dimitri by his name a lot, and he also uses his name when talking to other people. So I feared it wouldn't be as obvious that it's the first time he's calling him, directly, by his name in the whole story. But I still wanted to have it, obviously x)  
> Now next chapter will probably come out on Thursday or Friday! It will kind of close this part of the story, but what a part it was! As I mentioned some time ago, these middle chapters were, for most, my favourite ones to write and the reason for that, I think, is that this was the crux of the story, especially emotionally speaking. Until then, the plot has mostly been about the war, yes, but emotionally, it was about Judai learning the truth and Felix's conflicting loyalties. And now here we are. Judai knows the truth, and while all of Felix's issues aren't resolved, at least his two families are united at last, and he and Dimitri even started connecting again! So now we mostly have the war to focus on I guess, huh.


	30. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri tries to have a nice day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet won, woohoo!  
> So, this is the last flashback chapter in the whole fic, and as such, it seemed logical that it'd go to the one FE character who wasn't introduced with one. As we're finally going to start getting Dimitri pov chapters that aren't plagued with Destruction and vengeance, it felt right to finally introduce him like the others were.  
> This chapter was... not what I expected it to be when I wrote it xD I went there knowing I would write Dimitri snapping, since we don't see him snap in VW but know he did, I knew there'd also be his hallucinations of ghosts talking to him, so basically, I expected the chapter to be completely depressing. It's... not exactly what happened as you will notice x)  
> In any case, after that chapter we'll go back to a slower rhythm. I think it will be better for everybody, seeing how comments suddenly stopped happening soon after my double update ;; I guess I need to leave more time for people to read before updating, that will be a lesson learnt. I just hope you guys still find the story interesting and that it really was the speed of updates that was the problem ^^'

**Chapter 29**

_And it will come_

_Through the darkest day_

_In my final hour_

_And it will never rest_

_Until the clouds are clear_

_Until it finds my dreams have disappeared_

**28th day of the Pegasus Moon, Imperial Year 1180**

**Dimitri**

Dimitri wiped his eyes, disgruntled and more dismayed than he dared admit. His tiredness was starting to feel like a personality trait rather than a state of being, with how often his body and soul had been through the feeling of sheer exhaustion these last weeks. The more selfish parts of his mind were complaining that he wasn't at fault, there, but the ones that _knew_ instead of _felt_ also knew how wrong that sensation was. After all, it had been his father, step-mother and friends, keeping him awake and contemplating the futility of his being here and idle. Futile, yes, for how little had he accomplished here in so many months? There time went, and the Pegasus Moon was already present, taunting him with the waste that this year had been, when all was considered.

Well, not entirely a waste, he tried to beg, his lance thrusting into the air. He had trained, he had learnt, he had become much stronger, surely this amounted for something. He would need such power to reach his purpose after all.

" _Not enough,_ " Lamber hissed, " _you are not strong enough. You cannot be strong enough when you do not even know what you are fighting against._ "

He didn't, it was true. The changes in the world around him made it worse and he felt lost. He started counting, his feet moving along with the rhythm of recollection. Step one, there had been the incident in Remire, a tragedy, a foul act that had made him furious, oh so furious he had feared he'd fall again, have everyone realize why it was that Felix hated him so. He hadn't even been there, but the rage puppeteering him at the time would have made one forget about that. How haunted Claude's eyes had been after the event, how Marianne had been found, sobbing in the Cathedral for hours. How none of the Golden Deer had come out unscathed, even Felix who had already lived his fair share of warfare had been mute and cold, his usual anger too subdued by horror to explode as it usually did.

Second step, there had been Jeralt’s death. He hadn’t been there, once again, but he had known of it. He had noticed three of his classmates - though he didn’t know them by name - going missing. He had then learnt about the demonic beasts that had happened near the chapel. He had learnt about how these beasts had had to be slayed before they killed some of their missing students - including one of Dimitri’s three missing ones. He had been told, by a shaken-looking Claude, that the six beasts, there, had been some of their classmates, turned into monsters by some dark magic none of them could comprehend. That it had apparently been orchestrated by Monica, the girl they had rescued along with Flayn, months ago. That she had killed Jeralt before leaving, saved from professor Eisner’s wrath by a strange, pale man dressed in black. He remembered the professor’s distress at her father’s death, he had felt it, deeply, a wound that still hadn’t healed in his mind either… If someone as strong as Jeralt Eisner, the Blade Breaker, could die so easily, then what protected them. That had been the way the monastery had felt for the whole month afterwards, until vengeance had been served.

Yes, vengeance, revenge. Third step. The fight against Monica - Kronya and Solon. That one, Dimitri had managed to watch over. That hadn't made the sudden changes in the professor any less flabbergasting. The green hair, as mystical as the one on holy characters such as Lord Seteth, Flayn or Lady Rhea... And now, there would be a holy ceremony that the Golden Deer were to watch over. A revelation from the Goddess. All of this was, at the very least, supremely interesting.

Unfortunately for the souls of his loved ones, they did not feel the same way. But he knew why, oh, he did. Because in the end, he had been barely focused on the strangeness of the professor's situation, back then. No, his mind had been preoccupied with one person's predicament and one only.

Claude von Riegan.

Claude von Riegan who had almost died, back then, who had almost died amidst flames and destruction, who Dimitri almost couldn't have saved and it had been familiar, horrifyingly familiar, the taste of ash in his mouth and the sheer terror as fire, death and violence surrounded him... Dimitri still wasn't sure how _sane_ he had been when he had forced the young man to stab him, but it had felt good, so good, not to be powerless this time.

Goddess, he hoped he would never have to see him be so vulnerable ever again. Claude von Riegan _shouldn't_ have to be vulnerable. The man was a spark and a smile, curiosity made human, and amusement crinkling with fondness, he was a man made to laugh and joke and be joyful, and here he had been, crying in despair. It had felt... well, there was no word for just how _wrong_ it had felt to see him reduced to such a state. Dimitri would see his devastated, wounded face in his dreams, superposed with the proud elation he had worn like a brand new armor fit to his taste, during the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, when he had bested Dimitri...

" _You shall focus, boy._ " His step-mother said harshly. " _This is no time for such foolish thoughts."_

" _Your investigation on Lord Arundel hasn't borne fruits,_ " Glenn hummed by his side, " _you're no further advanced than you were before coming here._ "

"I have made progress," he whispered, "I have! These soldiers and mages, around Solon and Kronya, these men that we fought..."

The more he saw them in his mind's eye, the more he was convinced of how similar they were to those he had seen in Duscur, years ago. It was an image that had been branded in his memory, white-hot iron inside him, something he could never erase. These dark-clad men’s blades and magic, trapping his family and friends when they should have been safe, killing them all one after the other as fire closed in and closed in. He was sure of it, these were the same people Solon and Kronya had called to their aid...

" _Ah, yes,_ " Lambert said with a mocking laugh, " _Solon. Who you let other people deal with instead of seeking answers._ "

Dimitri interrupted his steps, a shower of ice freezing his mind and bones at the reminder.

"I..."

" _There are no excuses, you didn't even know that these two boys were in danger. You might have gone there and found them just fine, and then you would have sacrificed these answers for nothing!_ "

But there had been smoke. Dimitri had been worried, he remembered a Demonic Beast that had escaped through the woods, wounded, and so he had just turned back, thinking of reassuring himself, asking those left onsite if they knew what had happened of it. They hadn't known, and then he had seen smoke. He had not thought twice.

"They are important," he begged, "Ashe is a trusted companion! As for Claude, he..."

He will be the leader of the Alliance someday, he thought, he needed to have a connection with him, those with influence could help not only when it would come to ruling Faerghus, but with his revenge too! It felt disturbingly hypocritical to think so, and Glenn laughed, a rash, mocking sound.

" _You did not think of that when you ran to his aid. Is avenging us really so important to you? I say not, I say you are just like my brother, enticed by the man's pretty eyes._ "

Dimitri sputterred, his lance hanging in the air, his arms limp. No, he felt immediately, as if ashamed for having heard such words. That was unfair for his friend, who had very decidedly not left because of laughing twin jades...

"Please, Glenn," he said as if it really was the issue, "we both know Felix only has eyes for Sylvain."

" _Then it is your leadership that is lacking. How are you supposed to rally men to our revenge if you can't keep the most loyal of them all?_ "

"Hey there, your princeliness!"

Air, suddenly. Dimitri blinked, torn from his haunting, and turned to see Claude, smiling at him. Almost against his own will, he could feel himself smile too, happiness burning warm in his chest, his heart pounding. Sometimes, he knew, the ghosts of his loved ones told him what he knew but couldn't admit and Glenn had been profoundly right when he had accused him of being enticed by these emerald green eyes, brimming with life and joy.

"Claude," he greeted him, "thank you for coming. I know today must have been a busy day for you, with Lysithea’s birthday."

They had organized a small after class party for the young girl, one brimming with cake, and Dimitri had expected Claude to stay there and enjoy the feast as he so often did. He himself had been invited to stay, just like the rest of the student body, but he could not. Maybe it had just been shame that had warmed his cheeks, when he remembered that he had not mustered the courage to congratulate Felix for his eighteenth birthday, just one week earlier. He had been at a loss, unsure what he could do that wouldn’t have been unwelcome. He feared going to him in person would just be met with scorn and that any gift of his would be thrown away without care - except were he to find a rare sword but it wasn’t in Garreg Mach that he would do so. In the end, he had awkwardly left Four-spices Tea on Felix’s doorstep, not even daring to put a card with it. Claude had confirmed that he had gotten the gift, though. Mentioning how he hadn’t known it was Felix’s favourite. Not many knew indeed, Dimitri remembered with a smile, because it wasn’t easy to get your hands on it. The flavor wasn’t popular, rare were the merchants who would waste some space carrying it. He had found it through a stroke of luck.

Claude had laughed, then, talking about how their friend liked unusual things, though he was as fond of Almyran Pine Needles as Felix himself was. They had then bonded on their shared love of chamomile, culminating with Dimitri asking if he’d mind joining him, once the party was over.

And so here they were.

"You called me here," his fellow leader winked, "I could not refuse. It's not everyday you get a direct request from His Highness the Crown Prince of Faerghus."

"Please," Dimitri chastised, "do not mock me. It is quite the embarrassing situation."

"And why is that?" Claude sauntered to him, taking the lance from his weakened hands and miming a hit in the wind. "You wouldn't tell me what that was about."

"As I said," Dimitri mubled, taking the weapon back, "it is embarrassing. I wasn't sure of the way I should approach the subject matter with you and I fear all I shall say will be awkward at the very best."

"Go ahead." Claude said with his usual sunny smile, the fake one that showed he was guarded. It might have been fake but it lit up the world all the same.

Well, postponing the act, no matter how tempting, would only prove worse in the end. Inhaling, Dimitri searched inside his vest, finding the object he had tucked near his heart. He held it out to his fellow leader, handle first. Claude blinked owlishly, caught off-guard, before taking it, eyes curious.

"Is that a dagger?"

"Ah, yes it is. I, well... I realized recently that I had left yours behind and... It seemed rather uncouth of me not to procure a replacement."

Claude gaped at him for a second, and then started looking at the weapon. It was a pretty thing, though not overtly precious. Good steel and a carved deer head on the handle. Dimitri had seen it on the marketplace, it had seemed appropriate.

"Dimitri," Claude smiled, bigger and more sincere, "it's beautiful! But seriously, you shouldn't have! You already did far more than enough for me at that time."

"I insist," Dimitri felt himself flush slightly, "I discarded it without even wondering whether it was important to you or not. This seemed like the least I could do as reparation."

Somewhere, inside his mind, Sylvain was laughing and asking him what was up with him and offering daggers. But surely, even his friend wouldn't argue with his logic, this time, right? And it was no seduction (not like the last time he had offered someone a dagger had been seduction either), it was just... Reparation!

But then why had he felt so awkward that he had asked Claude to meet him alone before bringing it up?

In truth, hadn't he felt so mortified (maybe remnants of all the teasing from Sylvain he had to endure?) by the action, it would not have been difficult to give Claude the dagger. The two of them _had_ been spending more and more time together since the Forest incident, not that Dimitri ought to complain.

Even before that fateful duel of theirs, at Gronder, Dimitri had cherished every moment they had spent by each other's side. His fellow class representative - dare he call him a friend? - was both prodigiously intelligent and mischievous, but as Dimitri had realized soon enough, all of his prankster's schemes were made in good fun. His heart was good and his compassion shone bright. That was something Dimitri had seen as soon as the Garland Moon, when he had heard him comfort Ashe after Lonato's ill-fated rebellion. Kindness hidden behind smiles and jokes, no matter how cold and calculating his eyes could become. Dimitri had never been one to pry in others' secrets, but there had been some foolish part of him that, all this time, had wished to be able to reach out and take his hand, asking him who hurt him and if he needed Dimitri to slay them for him.

The same part of him, though, also knew the young man enough to know that if some slaying had needed to be done, he probably had already done the deed himself.

"You are too sweet, Your Princeliness. Now, why don't you put down the lance, we could share a chamomile? If you keep training as much as you do, you'll ruin your hands."

"It is kind of you to worry, but I fear it may be a redundant preoccupation."

"What do you mean?" Claude frowned, catching his arm. "Did you already destroy your hands? Is that why you're always wearing gauntlets?"

"Wha... No, Claude this isn't..." It was both wrong and right. Training had not destroyed his hands, but the flames, the burn...

His hands were but a reminder of the tragedy of Duscur, maybe it was cowardly of him to cover them so, but he could not live with their sight... He just could not. Even when they itched, at times, he rarely felt able to look at them. Just touching them when he washed his hands was difficult sometimes...

Yet he let Claude take off one of the gauntlets, protesting but doing nothing to stop him. The angry red of his burn scars glared at him and he looked away, ashamed by the ugliness of his injured skin. Surely anyone would be disgusted by it. And Claude...

Claude hummed, pensive.

"Well I'd say, Your Princeliness, I think I actually have more calluses than you do."

Lightly, with this cute smile of his and no judgement shining in his eyes, Claude raised one elegant hand and pushed it against Dimitri's, as if to compare. It was smaller than Dimitri's, though not by much. Darker skinned, with indeed quite a bit of calluses. Pale scars littered it too, so small they might have been unnoticeable, but they covered his whole palm. Dimitri wanted to ask about them, desperately, but he was tongue-tied, his face flush with warmth, and the only thoughts his brain was managing to focus on were the fact that their hands were touching, palm against palm, skin against skin and if he just crooked his fingers a bit they might be holding hands? No, no, that wasn't proper at all, what was he _thinking_? But it would be so easy...

"You've been wounded," he managed to say, though his voice felt strangled.

"Oh, these?" the young man laughed. "It's a weird and embarrassing story, let's just say I had to hang on to brambles for a while."

Dimitri winced and Claude laughed harder.

"Haha, it wasn't exactly a pleasant experience. But hey, the fact that I'm here to joke about it is worth celebrating in my humble opinion."

"It is," Dimitri couldn't help but smile, "I hope you will tell me one day."

"Maybe," Claude grinned before pointing at a scar on the back of Dimitri's hand, not a burn that one, no, a slice that had gone deep, "that looks like a sword accident."

He had deflected the conversation, Dimitri noticed, but he didn't insist, despite wishing to know more.

"It was indeed. I was inexperienced at the time and not used to weapons that were more blade than wood."

"Really? Were _you_ the one holding the sword, Your Princeliness?"

"Is that so surprising?"

"I do not think I've ever seen you wield one."

"The sword is very rarely used as a main weapon in Faerghus, but most knights do learn to use it as a secondary weapon. I'll admit, it might feel like bragging, but I do consider it one of my specialties."

"Is that so?" Claude's eyes were shining and Dimitri felt a terribly weak man at the moment.

The Alliance leader took the lance from Dimitri's fingers and put it back on the weapon's rack. He pointed at the crates containing wooden swords.

"Well now that's something I want to see. Care to spar with me? I should warn you though, I have been training with the best."

Warmth, Dimitri laughed, fond.

"And as I recall, he, too, is being trained by the best when it comes to the bow. Very well, I shall accept your challenge, then."

In a reversal from their positions at the end of the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, Dimitri won and proceeded to thoroughly embarrass himself by staying there, staring at his downed opponent, dumbfounded, until Claude nicely (but his voice a bit strained) asked him if he could let him up. Dimitri lost himself in apologies afterwards, helping him up and making sure he was alright while Claude laughed, assuring him that he was fine.

But somehow, this shall not have been the hardest part of the day. No, it came right after, when they left the training grounds to do what one ought to after such grueling exercise, which was taking a bath.

Taking a bath.

With Claude von Riegan.

Goddess, Dimitri was doing all he could to _not_ look at him, fearing he'd stare, open-mouthed like one of these star-struck knights in fables, when they met one of these maidens of unparallelled beauty. This kind of ogling was extremely inappropriate, and in such a setting, it bordered on perversion. Unfortunately, Claude didn't spend his baths in silence, joking about how the steam from the bath was probably hard on Northerners like Dimitri, and it would have been impolite not to look at him while answering. And so Dimitri turned, trying to focus on his eyes and, oh, Dimitri, you fool, why would you do such a thing? When he was able to think clearly, after all, he perfectly knew that Claude von Riegan's eyes were the most dangerous part of him.

"I will admit that heat is a weakness of mine," Dimitri stammered, not knowing whether it was safer to keep looking or if he should lower his eyes, but too trapped by that green gaze to try anyway, "I am lucky our hardest exams did not happen during the Verdant Rain Moon."

Claude tilted his head, arms open and laying on the edge of the baths as he sunk down in the water, a smirk on his tantalizing lips.

"Maybe it's because you are so used to the cold and heavy clothes that come with it that seeing other naked bodies is so flustering to you?"

"Claude!" Not any, Goddess, just his, not that Dimitri would admit so, lowering his eyes sheepishly.

"I'm joking, Your Princeliness," Goddess, his laugh was so sweet, "don't you worry, though, just look at me, there's nothing for you to be jealous of."

Jealous? Oh how far from Dimitri's thoughts he was, and yet, somehow, the words lit up outrage in his chest. How could such a beautiful man think such things?

"Please," he said, attempting to regain composure, "you are far more striking than I would ever be. I am terribly plain and dull-looking when compared to you."

Claude laughed. And then stopped, eyes open wide. He let go of the border, bending forwards in surprise.

"You're not joking?"

"Why would you assume so?"

"Dimitri, do you own a _mirror_? I can't believe you actually think that!"

“Please,” Dimitri felt himself scoff, fidgeting with his still very naked hands, “my face is, as one says, nothing to write home about, I am clumsy and awkward when I move, and I have been told once or twice that my hair makes me look like a prat.”

By Sylvain, exclusively, but the man knew how to look good so his advice had to be sound on that aspect.

“Excuse me?” Claude’s voice actually sounded offended on his behalf. “I’d write home about your face! Seriously Dimitri!” And now he was moving and Dimitri felt his chest panic, why was a very naked Claude von Riegan getting closer to him? “You cannot be thinking that look at you!”

He clamped his hands around Dimitri’s face and the prince felt himself about to faint, unable to breathe as the man furrowed his brows.

“You are absolutely beautiful!” He said, almost as if he were complaining. “Your features are sharp, your cheekbones are unfair, and have you ever seen your eyes? They’re mesmerizing! Who cares if you’re a bit clumsy at times, it’s adorable! And these shoulders, damn, _I_ have something to be jealous of, I swear.”

He must have been steaming and so wasn’t sure how, exactly, he found the strength to smile and ask:

“But does my hair make me look like a prat?”

His question pulled a chuckle out of Claude and the man let go of his face, to Dimitri’s chest’s great relief. He sent him another smile before settling by his side.

“No it doesn’t, but I do think we could find you something that suits you better. Or maybe I could sicc Hilda on you, she’d know how to make you look even more stunning!”

Bickering about beauty with a man who made his heart beat too loudly and too quickly wasn't something Dimitri had ever expected to live through, when he had gone to Garreg Mach, but he found that he could hardly complain, not when here they were, so close, steam like an ethereal spell that separated them from reality. It felt peaceful and warm, all thoughts of ruling and ghosts and revenge disappearing from his mind, his heart speaking and pounding along with his awkward words.

"I feel like I should have made more time to speak with you," Claude said as they left the warm water behind them, "this year has been much busier than I expected."

"You have already made plenty of time," Dimitri assured, "if anything, I am the one who should have made the effort, the Blue Lions were not as busy as the Golden Deer these last months."

"One day I'll say something and you won't manage to turn it into self-flagellation," Claude's voice was amused, but Dimitri did flush, which was quite exceptional seeing how the heat and the water rivulets running down Claude's back had already made sure his face would be a deep crimson, "but since we still have a month, I say we don't waste any more time, okay? It's too late for today, but what do you say you eat dinner with us tomorrow?"

Dinner?

"Do you not have the ceremony with Lady Rhea and the professor, tomorrow?"

"We do, yes, but I sure hope it will be done by that time."

Usually, Dimtri dined early, usually in Dedue's company, Sylvain's and Ingrid's too if the two were done early for once. Then he'd leave either for some evening training or for the library, searching for more clues, anything that might help him find out more about the targets of his revenge. Dining with the deers, who ate noticeably later than he did, would mean sacrificing a whole evening of research...

Dimitri was reminded of Glenn's words and once again, had to agree, shamefully. As far as plans of vengeance were concerned, Claude von Riegan was a distraction, but such a pleasant one Dimitri was loath to refuse him.

"I do not know whether I should accept your offer," he tried, a small protest, his only resistance, "Felix might... not look fondly upon my presence."

"Don't you worry about our grumpy cat," Claude laughed, "he already gave me the go ahead when I suggested a common table. Plus, he and Leonie will probably be talking the whole meal anyway, they kind of tend to stay in their little bubble world when they’re eating next to each other."

"Exchanging training pointers I'd guess?" Dimitri's heart was pounding and he was feeling any resolve he might still have, dissolving, melting like snow under a warm sun.

"I thought so too, before I _accidentally_ heard them complaining to each other about Sylvain being an idiot. But who knows, really?"

Dimitri couldn't stop some small, surprised laughter from escaping him. Claude waved at him, winking.

"It's a date, then!"

And as he left in the direction of the library, Dimitri just looked at him, still feeling warm and comfortable and thinking that maybe, maybe the situation might turn out all right. Claude actually enjoyed his company, might actively help him out with his goals if he dared sharing them. Felix had accepted eating with him, and that was a step forward, that was almost an olive branch, a hand reaching out. And he missed Felix, he missed him like one missed a limb, and surely, surely his loved ones could forgive him for pushing the _boar_ his friend hated so much on the side, if it was to regain the love and support of one he used to call brother.

" _Brother, right,_ " snorted Patricia in his ear, " _and what about your sister?_ "

It was like ice had suddenly stabbed through him. His sister. Edelgard. Goddess, it was so hard to watch her walk around while not knowing how to talk to her. He was worried, terribly so, but here she was acting as if she had no idea who he was and didn't want anything to do with him. Always cold, haughty, acting as if they were strangers who had just met at the beginning of the year… And so he watched in silence, trying to catch any signs that she needed help, wondering why she didn't seem to reach out to anyone but Hubert, her retainer, fearing that she was so isolated she didn't know how to create bonds anymore, but not knowing how to get close enough that she'd hear him out and let him help.

Truth being said, he thought morosely as he started walking towards his own dorm room, she was one of the reasons he had been investigating Lord Arundel. Was she a prisoner of his grasp, unsure who she could trust? Wouldn't she let him protect her, just for a minute?

" _And Arundel probably did play a role in Duscur,_ " Glenn said, " _focus on that._ "

" _You should try to help your sister before helping your brother,_ " Lambert added, " _this way you help us too._ "

He barely slept that night, heard Felix tossing and turning, probably more anxious about the ceremony than he'd like to pretend. It was easier for Dimitri to focus on his friend's lack of sleep than it was to stop listening to the whispers, reminding him of how he was wasting time and failing them and how the clock was ticking, unstopping, time a cruel master that could never be regained.

The night was hard on him, as it always was. When he slept, he slept heavily, mercifully dreamless and apparently unable to hear Sylvain being a fool, though it was had to believe he would be reckless enough to bring girls all the way to his bedroom where everyone could see and hear them. But whenever Dimitri didn’t sleep, however, that was when the nightmares appeared, as contradictory as it could feel. It was when he was awake that his mind turned to fire and screams, to his father screaming at him an order, desperate, the order to avenge them, right before his head was cut. That was when he heard his step-mother scream in anguish before her wagon disappeared into flames. That was when he screamed at people, again and again, terror stuck in his throat, that it wasn’t the Duscurians, that they were innocent, while no one listened. Memories were worse than any nightmare his unconscious brain could conjure, and in the dark, without the distraction of the sunlight or the noises of the living, he was their hapless prey, unable to escape them.

He rubbed against his wounded hands, trying to hang on to the moment Claude had held them, looking as if he hadn’t even noticed the burns. If he closed his eyes, could he pretend it was still him, holding them?

When the sun started rising, he had barely slept and his body ached with tiredness. That would be another day of headaches it would seem…

"Okay, your Highness," said Sylvain as he sat in front of him at breakfast, "what is happening?"

Dimtri blinked, unsure what his friend was talking about. By his side, he heard Dedue exhale softly, relief barely shown. Dimitri couldn't help but feel his lips twist into a pout.

"I am perfectly fine," he protested, "Dedue, did you ask Sylvain to talk to me?"

"I did no such thing, Your Highness," Dedue said calmly as he drank his morning tea, "but your tiredness has been worrying me, I will admit. So have your headaches."

"And now it's worrying me too," Sylvain added, smiling, but eyes piercing, "you’ve been getting sloppy recently, it’s not like you. Honestly, from what I've seen, you're one sleepless night away from a good old Ingrid nagging at you to take care of yourself. So you'd better tell me now before she badgers you into going back to sleep right now. You know she would. In fact, if she doesn’t, I might. You’re hella pale, you know? is it your anxiety again?"

It was always humbling when one worried Sylvain. With the exception of Felix who he had always been overprotective of (possessive, in fact), Sylvain tended not to spend much time worrying about others. Well, no, that wasn’t true. In battle, he tended to throw himself in front of danger, again and again to protect others, and giving them quite the heart attacks in the process. But outside of it, he tended to understate his worry, a few glances, sometimes words of advice, or distracting them with one outrageous story of his or another. Rarely if ever did he sincerely speak of his worry in front of the person.

Slightly ashamed, Dimitri nodded.

"It is nothing," he sighed, "I have been feeling... anxious, indeed. Next month's exams have been worrying me, that is all."

And the pressure really _was_ here. Professor Hanneman assured his results were phenomenal, but the feeling of not doing enough was one that he had felt his whole life, and no reassurance would ever get rid of it. There were too many people he could let down, was his performance not up to par.

"I feel you," Annette whined, a bit further at the table, "I'd probably be less worried about it if we had won the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, that would mean extra credit at least."

That was the moment Ingrid chose to sit with a heavy, aggravated groan and Dimitri just had to smile at that. She still felt angry at their loss, he knew, especially since they had lost to the Golden Deer. His friend had this love/hate relationship with Claude, where she couldn't help but admire him and hated the fact that she did so much she overreacted to every single thing he did. Maybe there had been some jealousy at first, and some rivalry developed with how Felix had seemed to flourish in his company, but Dimitri suspected the true reason for her almost desperate animosity was their red-haired friend.

From afar, Claude and Sylvain were indeed quite similar. Their easy going and friendly attitudes belied darker depths, their smiles fake and their eyes cold, wounded by a painful life. They both acted beneath their station too, looking nonchalant and negligent despite their brilliant and ambitious minds, prefering to be underestimated than seen as threatening. That was where the similarities stopped, in truth. Sylvain’s skirt-chasing was an annoying habit he had taken out of rebellion against his family, while Claude had never been one to ceaselessly court women, his little moments of flirting harmless and never shown as serious. He could also show himself courteous when talking to others, even when he didn’t actually respect them, something Sylvain had a hard time doing. But the similarities stayed and as such, it was quite obvious that much of Ingrid’s animosity towards his ‘lack of serious’ and ‘undignified attitude’ were actually her taking out the worry and anger she felt towards Sylvain on Claude. Maybe it was unfair for the Golden Deer leader, but fortunately, he seemed to find it strangely endearing.

When it came to the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, though, Dimitri sincerely could not feel as bad as she did about their loss. Not when he kept picturing Claude, holding an arrow to his throat, and his overjoyed expression, genuine glee and awe lighting up in his leaf-green eyes. Goddess, how fast his heart had been beating at the time, and how he had known, without being able to regret it, that he was doomed this exact moment, because for sure, no one could ever compare.

His eyes roamed around the dining hall, searching for the beautiful thief who had made easy pickings of his thoughts and heart, and found him in a corner, along with Felix, Hilda and Yuri. A striking quatuor, talking animatedly about something that had Hilda up in arms and Yuri looking like a cat about to eat a canary with none the wiser. If he couldn't see Felix and Claude's faces, neither looked tense. He stared, maybe, for a few seconds, letting himself wish for tonight to come already, so they'd talk about that ceremony they had assisted to, and smile, and create bonds that would make him forget about his grim purpose. Oh, his loved ones would want to make him regret it, but he wouldn't, he knew he wouldn't. Maybe he would even manage to sleep that night, cradled with laughter and smiles instead of the usual fire and screams, maybe he would be able to reassure his friend, maybe tomorrow would be devoid of headaches.

It all came crashing down barely a few hours later, as it was always meant to.

They were in class, Hanneman congratulating them on finishing the program and mentioning how, from now on, they'd focus on making sure all year's program had been understood. Dimitri was even able to focus for a bit, mind as present as it could be after an all-nighter of thinking and remembering without reaching either a conclusion or the sweet release of sleep.

It was in this tired, but hopeful atmosphere that the doors to the Blue Lions classroom opened.

It was Felix.

He looked out of breath, eyes open wide, and body shaking a bit. As he went through the door, for the first time in six months, his face was tense, getting more emotionless in an attempt of neutral calm that seemed more for his own benefit than their own.

"Young Felix?" Hanneman said with surprise. "What is the meaning of this interruption?"

"The Holy Tomb," the young man started before frowning, "no, before that..."

"Has something happened there?" the elderly man asked in alarm. And Dimitri rose up, worry clutching his heart as he wondered. Had something happened to the professor? To Lady Rhea? To _Claude_?

No.

Worse.

Much, much worse.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Felix started explaining. The attack from the Empire, the thief _Metodey_ (and Dimitri remembered him, remembered that scumbag who had helped Aelfric back in Abyss, so all along he had been working with them, working with those who had...), and the Flame Emperor. The one who had participated in Flayn’s kidnapping, who had been allied with those who had caused the slaughter at Remire, the forceful transformations of students into beasts, and the death of Jeralt. The one who had used the Death Knight and opposed them again and again, the one who ordered around those who had caused the Tragedy of Duscur.

The Flame Emperor.

Edelgard.

The world stopped turning, and started again colder, darker. And as the truth crashed into him, Dimitri laughed. And laughed.

And laughed.

In the empty air, he could almost see the world, picking up all of his hopes and discarding them to the side. Green eyes, full of warmth, disappeared, replaced with white shapes, screaming for revenge and how he had let her do that, he had _let her, how dare he have let her_! The betrayal didn't even sting, it just sat there, taunting him as if he should have seen it, all along, because what an idiot he was, what an idiot!

And so Dimitri laughed.

And the whole world turned to ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. Almost half the chapter is just Dimitri crushing hard and being flustered and smitten xD I won't lie, that was adorable to write, much more adorable than what I expected when I started on that scene with Claude. I've noticed how, in the fandom, we tend to write Dimitri in love as this enamoured young man who would cherish forever a simple touch of fingers and consider himself blessed for being in his crush's company (except when it comes to Felix where we all write him as a teasing trolling companion, but hey, that's what the game shows us x) ) aaand I'm no exception! Dimitri is in eternal puppy love mode, I don't make the rules.  
> IMO, that actually made the chapter harsher in hindsight, though. Because we have him happy, desperately trying and maybe making steps in the right direction, only for the rug to be pulled right out from under his feet by the betrayal and upcoming war...  
> On a more positive note, I think there's something nice to be said about Claude having to discard the dagger that was a constant reminder of hatred and having its replacement be one gifted out of love and care instead :) It's the kind of symbolism I didn't think of when writing but noticed when editing and found cute!  
> See you guys next chapters, whenever it comes out!


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